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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242352">Lavellan Character Study Alphabet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_felidae/pseuds/a_felidae'>a_felidae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alphabet Meme, Character Development, Character Study, Dalish Courtship, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Elves, F/M, Gen, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:20:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>25,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242352</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_felidae/pseuds/a_felidae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nydhalan "Belavahni" Lavellan from A to Z.<br/>Covers events from her time as the Herald of Andraste and before - from her own point of view and that of others.</p><p>Archive warnings apply for some chapters.<br/>Please use the overview I posted for reference.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cole &amp; Female Lavellan (Dragon Age), Cole &amp; Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Overview</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since I had a blast writing the Character Study Alphabet for my Tabris, fleshing out her background and motivations, I figured I might do the same for my Lavellan.<br/>Meet Nydhalan "Belavahni" Lavellan.</p>
<p>Credit for the name goes to "Project Elvhen: Book of Names" by FenxShiral.<br/>I will make use of "Project Elvhen" several times when writing Belavahni, and I hope I remember to mention it each time I do.</p>
<p>Other than the Tabris Character Study Alphabet that was already finished when I started posting, I will update this fic as I progress writing it.</p>
<p>Some stories contain spoilers for gameplay.<br/>I figure most readers here have played the games already and will not be bothered, but to be safe I point out which stories are mere background, and which go beyond that.</p>
<p>There will be several chapters for some of the letters, and I will number these for easier reference, for example 1/3, 2/3 etc.</p>
<p>For connected fanfics from different viewpoints, I add a letter behind the number, for example 3a/3, 3b/3. It is one story (3/3) but split into chapters by viewpoint.</p>
<p>It is usually one character’s viewpoint for each story, though there might be exceptions later on.</p>
<p>I put a short description for the stories corresponding to each letter in the alphabet here, because the tags I will add on with each chapter apply for the whole collection, and people might want more specific information for the individual chapters so they can pick what they (do not) want to read.</p>
<p>This information will include:<br/>length, rating, warnings, viewpoint, characters (main &amp; mentioned), and timeframe (for example: pre-Haven, pre-Skyhold, or in-game).<br/>I hope this will help to avoid spoilers and/or content you do not wish to read about.</p>
<p>I will not reveal the word(s) I picked for each letter here, but in the notes at the end of each chapter, to avoid spoiling certain stories.</p>
<p>I find it hard to rate certain scenes, and tend to err on the side of caution. If you disagree with my rating for a chapter, please feel free to let me know in the comments.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>A 1/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 800 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, Cullen;<br/>Timeframe: in-game, past Skyhold, but no major plot points covered beyond that</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>A 2/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 300 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, Cullen<br/>Timeframe: in-game, but no major plot points covered </p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>A 3/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 1300 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, Cole<br/>Timeframe: in-game, past Skyhold; spoilers for Coles personal plot</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>B 1/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 3000 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: Keeper Amelan<br/>Characters: main: Amelan, f!Lavellan; mentioned: Deshanna<br/>Timeframe: pre-Haven</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>B 2/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 300 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, Cullen<br/>Timeframe: in-game, at Skyhold, but no major plot points covered</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>B 3/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 1700 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audiences (mention of sex)<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, The Iron Bull, Dorian; mentioned: Cullen<br/>Timeframe: in game, spoilers for Bull’s personal plot</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>C 1/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 6600 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audiences (mention of death)<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan, Cullen; mentioned: Dorian, Cole<br/>Timeframe: in-game, at Skyhold; Spoilers for Dorian’s personal plot</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>C 2/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 150 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: Cullen<br/>Characters: main: Cullen, Cole; mentioned: f!Lavellan (not by name, just context)<br/>Timeframe: in-game, at Skyhold, but no major plot points covered</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>C 3a/3:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 3500 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: Cullen, f!Lavellan; mentioned: Cole, Deshanna, Clan Lavellan<br/>Timeframe: in-game, at Skyhold, but no major plot points covered</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>D 1/4:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 2600 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan; mentioned: her family and clan<br/>Timeframe: pre-Haven</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>D 2/4:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 1400 words<br/>Rating: Explicit<br/>Warnings: Underage (things get sort of steamy before getting the Vallaslin)<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan; mentioned: clan Lavellan<br/>Timeframe: pre-Haven</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>D 3/4:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 700 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan; mentioned: Clan Lavellan<br/>Timeframe: pre-Haven</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>D 4/4:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 800 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audience (mention/description of death &amp; corpses)<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan; mentioned: Cassandra (not by name), Solas<br/>Timeframe: pre-Skyhold, spoilers for prologue quest</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>E:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 1500 words<br/>Rating: Teenage And Up Audience (some violence)<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan; mentioned: Cole (not by name), advisors<br/>Timeframe: pre-Skyhold, spoilers for quest "Champions of the Just"</p>
<hr/>
<p><strong>F:</strong><br/>Length: ca. 100 words<br/>Rating: General Audiences<br/>Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply<br/>Viewpoint: f!Lavellan<br/>Characters: main: f!Lavellan<br/>Timeframe: in-game, but no major plot points covered</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A 1/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Belavahni and her twin brother are children of the Arlathvhen. It's ironic she's never attended one.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I was bestowed upon Clan Lavellan at the next to last Arlathvhen,” she had told the advisors, early on. A tactful way to phrase the fact that her mother had dallied with a stranger before getting her vallaslin and discovered the pregnancy weeks after, when all the clans had already gone their separate ways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Belavahni found out only later, when talking to Cullen, that they had thought she’d been given to the Clan because of her magic. That — not knowing which year an Arlathvhen was held — based on this assumption, and the age when children usually developed their magical talent, they had placed her in her mid to late twenties. She had enough lines gracing her face from worry and sleepless nights to make it a feasible estimate. With her small stature, and broad hips coupled with a rather unimpressive chest, people usually had a hard time pinpointing her age, assuming she looked younger than she actually was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She and Ivun had ran away together when they were nine, before their first Arlathvhen. Both mages, and her Second to the Keeper, after Deshanna, they had been worried that one of them might be sent to another Keeper in need of an apprentice. And they’d rather have been on their own, than parted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had managed to stay hidden thanks to the magic they’d been taught, and to survive thanks to every other lesson, living off the land. That way, the twins had waited out the Arlathvhen, making sure not to lose sight of Clan Lavellan during the gathering, so they could pick up the right trail after. When the different clans separated once more, they’d followed their own and slunk back to deal with the fallout.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There had been no question about taking them in again, and Hahren Lahnehn and their uncle had balanced the Keeper’s wrath when deciding their punishment, making sure he was led by Mythal, not Elgar’nan. Amelan had taught her that too much anger could twist justice to vengeance, but she’d never have thought she’d be the one to drive him that far, especially since he wore Mythal’s markings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For quite some time after that, Keeper Amelan’s disapproval had been like a wall of ice between him and his young apprentice. He’d talked mostly to Deshanna only, even with both girls sitting at his feet, and expected Belavahni to simply take in the teachings, when before he’d always encouraged her to think and question. It had hurt all the more, because he’d been the one to bestow her nickname upon her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Explaining to Cullen, though, that she’d never been to an Arlathvhen herself, had furrowed his brow in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… didn’t you say you were given to Clan Lavellan at an Arlathvhen? You had to have been at that one, even if you don’t remember it well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s there to remember? I was only a quickening in my mother’s womb.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… if you were conceived at one Arlathvhen, skipped the next, and there has not been a third yet…” She could almost hear the slight clicking noises, as he put the pieces together, added up the years to get to his conclusion. “They are held every ten years, you said, that would mean you’re not even twenty!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?” she said defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maker have mercy, I might have been in templar training before you were even born,” he’d moaned, burying his face in his hands. She’d felt offended, thinking he still saw her as a child, despite the markings on her face declaring her an adult. Only later, when they’d progressed from friendship to courtship did she realize that, at that moment, already wanting her, he’d thought of himself as a dirty, old man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d deflected his worry in that regard, declaring that she was the leader of the Inquisition and that they trusted her judgement at the war table. When they deemed her old enough to decide over the lives of so many others, maybe even the fate of nations, no one could tell her she was not old enough to decide in matters of her own heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d written a letter to Deshanna before making the final decision, to test the waters regarding a potential relationship with Cullen. Her Keeper — no, more than a Keeper, Deshanna was like an older sister, and by now her aunt as well — had told her that she’d always be welcome to visit the clan. Even if she could no longer be a part of it, should she follow her heart, for any children that might come from this union would not be of elvhen blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not knowing whether she’d ever be able to return to her clan, either way, that had been good enough. Losing them completely might have been too much of a sacrifice but being bound to the Inquisition for the foreseeable future, this compromise would do. She’d not considered, at the time, whether her choosing Cullen would mean that she might no longer be welcomed by other clans, and that she might never get to see an Arlathvhen.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The word inspiring this fic was:<br/>Arlathvhen</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A 2/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Assumptions can be bad. Luckily, Belavahni tends to question things.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Why do you do that?” Belavahni demanded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what?” Cullen asked back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You always walk at my right side, even if you have to shuffle around to make it so,” she pointed out. She’d wondered about that for a while, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's not about your right side, but my left. Shield-arm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you treat me like a threat? Something to defend against?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words were out, before she could really think them through. Could that be it, when she’d seen him turn his back toward the mage while settling a dispute between two members of the Inquisition, instead of the other person. He’d turned his back not on the mage, but toward him. He’d not felt he’d have to watch his back then, had he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… that's not what I….” he huffed a sigh, “would you have drawn a similar conclusion had I walked at your left, my sword-arm next to you? One side meaning I expect an attack from you, the other that I plan an attack on you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flushed slightly, embarrassed. “So, you're not uncomfortable in my presence.” That was a relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s an old habit, nothing more. You'll note that I do not carry a shield right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“True. I just…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tilted his head. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you might be avoiding…” she made a fist as if to stifle the flare of green inside her hand, but to no avail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is one worry concerning the Anchor I can dispel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To prove his point, he stepped around her, taking up the space at her left side, close enough that his gloved hand almost brushed against her marked one. And then, briefly, his fingers did brush against hers. “I wish I could do more.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Assumption<br/>Avoidance</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A 3/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cole has trouble sleeping. So does Belavahni, but she'll do her best to help, anyway.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You want advice on how to sleep?” Belavahni echoed. She knew that Cole had started to become more and more human. She’d not been aware that by now, he needed to sleep. “Why are you asking me?”</p>
<p>Cole fidgeted. “Dorian and The Iron Bull do <b>not</b> sleep together. Varric sleeps, but he doesn't dream. Solas does, but he likes it.”</p>
<p>Belavahni chuckled. “Good to know I wasn't your first choice,” she said and meant it, “I don't think I set the best example.”</p>
<p>“You know what it means to have trouble sleeping.”</p>
<p>“Well, yeah. So, you were just looking for a kindred spirit?”</p>
<p>Cole shook his head, decidedly, his wide hat flapping from the motion. “You're the only one who doesn't pull me.”</p>
<p>She thumbed at her palm, where the Anchor was embedded. “Oh. Well… we can share a sleeping space if you want. To ease you into things.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he agreed, eagerly. </p>
<p>“You have to know, though, that my habits are a bit unusual. I don’t sleep in the bed over there, but on a bear pelt before the fire.”</p>
<p>“It’s not just a habit, it’s a bit of home,” he declared, and she knew that he knew of the bear pelt she’d slept on her whole life, while she still was with the clan. The pelt of the beast that had earned her mother her vallaslin. This was another pelt, but as good a substitute as she’d been able to find. He understood, how the smell and feel of fur gave her a feeling of comfort and safety the big bed with its feather pillows could never convey.</p>
<p>“Alright, the first thing to know about sleep is this: get as comfortable as you can. Take off any restricting clothes. Anything with clasps or buckles that might dig into your body. Lose the hat.”</p>
<p>“But I like my hat,” he protested.</p>
<p>“I didn’t mean literally, Cole. Just take it off, so you can lie down. You can keep it close, where you can see and touch it, but wearing it while sleeping would be impractical.”</p>
<p>He did as she asked, taking off the hat, then divesting himself of his jacket and shirt. His skin was pale, but his shoulders were wider than expected, now that the oversized hat no longer drew the focus and distorted his proportions. He was taller than she’d thought, too, she realized as he stretched upward to pull the shirt over his head, though not filling out his frame yet. He had this habit to duck or crouch down, made himself smaller, all to seem less threatening to other people. She’d have to make sure to do something against his bad posture, or else, once he became even more human, his muscles would start to protest.</p>
<p>“Good. Those too,” Belavahni pointed at his shoes, and he toed them off. She always preferred to sleep barefoot, herself. Even when her feet grew cold sometimes, socks just felt odd to her when she tried to sleep. She sat down on the pelt and patted the spot next to her, „Come here.“</p>
<p>Cole hunkered down next to her, and she patted his shoulder reassuringly, “You’re doing fine so far. It might take some getting used to, but things will work out fine, you’ll see. Now, do you feel comfortable, where your body is concerned?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Then the next step is calming the mind. You said I am the only one who does not pull you, so try and focus on me. Forget the others for now.”</p>
<p>“But I want to help. I need to help.”</p>
<p>“Hm,” she considered a moment. His nature as a spirit was clashing with the human side of him growing more demanding. A spirit thwarted in his purpose would turn into a demon, and that possibility scared Cole, so he did not want to neglect the calls for help only he could hear. “Think of it this way: all the people who care about you. They’d worry if you wore yourself ragged. They’d want you to take care of yourself, too, not just of others. You will help them, help me, by relaxing a little from time to time.”</p>
<p>Cole’s face brightened at that idea. “I can help people while I sleep?”</p>
<p>“Yes. That can help a lot, actually.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he beamed, sounding absurdly grateful for such a little tidbit.</p>
<p>“No need to thank me, Cole. We’re friends. And friends support each other. It’s past time someone took care of you. Now, let’s lie down. Don’t think about it, just do what feels natural. The body will find a position that’s comfortable if you let it.”</p>
<p>She laid down herself, on her side, facing the fire. Cole followed suit, curling up on the pelt, facing her.</p>
<p>“Now, are you warm enough?”</p>
<p>He nodded.</p>
<p>“Do you want a blanket to wrap yourself in? Not just for warmth, some people like to have something to hold on to.”</p>
<p>“I might get tangled in it,” he sounded unsure.</p>
<p>“Well, we don’t have to get it all right on the first try. Trial and error. We’ll figure it out together.”</p>
<p>She considered for a moment. “If not a blanket, do you want to hold on to me? We can cuddle if you like. I can hold your hand. Something so you know you are not alone.”</p>
<p>His hand reached for hers, intertwining their fingers. “You will keep me safe?”</p>
<p>His big blue eyes looked at her without guile. How she could have ever feared him, when his face was so open, his expressions showing his every emotion, she could no longer fathom.</p>
<p>“I will. I promise. I’ll stay here with you, until you fall asleep.” She reached up with her free hand to tousle the pale hair that almost hid his eyes from view. It was a bit grimy. Maybe she should introduce him to bathing, next. Not just for getting clean. A good, long bath did wonders for relaxing before bedtime. “I will hold your hand and make certain you don’t fade away. There’s no real risk of that happening, but the feeling makes it real to you.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” Even lying down, Cole ducked his head, as if in shame.</p>
<p>“It’s fine, Cole. We all have our fears. That’s part of what makes us people. You’re doing fine. Don’t worry.”</p>
<p>He scooted closer. “You did not like sleeping after you acquired the Anchor. It changed the Fade, the way spirits act around you. It was so different. And the people made it worse, making you feel unsafe on both sides.”</p>
<p>“I know the Fade is different to you, too, now that you have passed over. Strange. No longer like home. It unsettles you, and that is a part of why you don’t like to sleep. And the sensation of falling asleep, of drifting off, reminds you of the time you were not certain you were real. I will be here, until you fall asleep. And once you do, I can try and be there, as well.”</p>
<p>As a mage, she could somewhat manoeuvre the Fade, was more aware of the world of dreams than other people. She might be able to find Cole’s dreamscape and join him there, to keep him company. She would make the attempt, at least.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he squeezed her hand.</p>
<p>“Of course,” Belavahni gave a reassuring squeeze in return. “Now, close your eyes. Try not to think about anyone else, just listen to my voice. I can tell you a story if you’d like.”</p>
<p>“Yes, please.”</p>
<p>She smiled. “Alright, let’s see…“ she pondered a moment. “Oh, I know. You’ll like this one. It has rabbits in it. No, wait... hares, actually. That's close enough, I hope.” Belavahni started her tale about Dirthamen entrusting various animals with his secrets. She told Cole in loving detail how each animal had handled the responsibility and before long, Cole’s breathing had evened out and he’d drifted off to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Advice<br/>Arrangement</p>
<p>Edited to add:<br/>I figure that the story she tells Cole is a more elaborate version of this codex entry:<br/>https://dragonage.fandom.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_Bear</p>
<p>I was unaware of the difference between rabbits and hares, thought the words were interchangeable , so I made a slight change to the story to reflect that.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. B 1/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Keeper Amelan teaches young Nydhalan some dalish lore and bestows her nickname upon her.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He had to wonder at the will of the gods. Magic had always been strong among Clan Lavellan, and they had always been a welcome sight at each Arlathvhen to those who lacked apprentices. A Keeper needed a First. It had seemed unthinkable that he would find himself in their position one day, and yet he had once the clan had been sundered. That the gods had granted him a Second, mere days after he had told his First, she would soon receive her vallaslin, provided she felt up to it... was that coincidence?</p>
<p>In a way, they both had been bestowed upon him during the last Arlathvhen, even if the younger girl had only come into her magic recently. Deshanna had been almost twelve when she left her clan to become his apprentice and had already known some of what he needed to teach her. And even though he thought her ready to receive the bloodwriting, there was so much more to know, so many forgotten things that wanted remembering. Even at his age, he himself was still learning, trying to figure it all out.</p>
<p>A whole culture — their home, their lore, their language, even immortality — lost. He was among those tasked with reviving what remnants they found and passing on the knowledge to make sure it stayed alive this time. The task sometimes seemed impossible, considering their quickened lifespans. Yet here he was, a child at his feet, going over the basics Deshanna could have recited in her sleep by now. As much as he yearned to delve into the fragments of ancient elven scripture they had recently found, to decipher and translate and discover, it would not do to neglect Nydhalan's training. The future was more important than the past.</p>
<p>Seeing as Deshanna would soon receive the bloodwriting, declaring her as an adult and as one of the Dalish, it seemed as good a topic as any to start on. “Now, da'len. Can you tell me which vallaslin honors which god?”</p>
<p>“Hahren Lahnehn has the one of Sylaise. The Hearthkeeper.”</p>
<p>Amelan smiled down at her softly, not surprised she would pick the markings of the face most familiar to her. “You would know that one. She practically raised you.” Not that this task was finished yet, either. “What about the others?”</p>
<p>“Dareth is marked for Ghilan'nain.”</p>
<p>“True” he admitted, “and he might honor the Mother of Halla above the other gods because the Halla are sacred to him, as they are to her. But it was choice, not necessity, to mark himself as Ghilan'nain's. Not all hunters are marked for Andruil. And Master Eilah is not marked for June, either. Can you tell me which god she swore herself to?”</p>
<p>“Thorned vines,” she muttered, watching as he scratched them into the ground at their feet with a stick.</p>
<p>“There is a variation of this vallaslin,” Amelan told her, drawing a straight line down the middle of the vines. “Imagine one half with the ink making up the vines. The other with the ink leaving the vines blank, marking the rest of the face.”</p>
<p>“Two halves, but together,” she mused, “Backwards. Like a mirror. Turning stuff around. Even though it sort of looks the same. Mirrors of each other. Opposites. Like day and night.” Her face lit up. “Elgar'nan” She put her hand on the side that he had indicated as the dark one. “His father, the Sun, scorched the earth. So, he brought him down. All was shadow,” she pointed at the other half, “but Mythal convinced him to let the light return.”</p>
<p>“Yes. Mythal tempered his rage and made him see reason. That's why Elgar'nan is the god of vengance, while she is the godess of justice. Too much anger can twist justice to vengance. Where one protects, the other destroys. They, too, are mirroring each other, but note the same. Can you draw the markings of Mythal for me?” He held out his hand, offering the stick. But she did not take it.</p>
<p>“I don't have to,” her little hand came up to touch his withered cheek, marked by so many lines of age that they were distorting his vallaslin. “You're marked for Mythal.”</p>
<p>“That I am.”</p>
<p>“Why her?”</p>
<p>“While the one receiving the vallaslin usually gives a reason for the choice made, it is not deemed necessary. And considered rude to ask.” The reasons behind the choice could be quite personal, and sometimes painful, as in Eilah's case.</p>
<p>“I didn't know.”</p>
<p>She looked so ashamed that he felt a pang of guilt. How was she supposed to know when the ritual had not been performed since before the last Arlathvhen? “It's all right, da'len. That's why we are here, isn't it? So you learn. Seeing as you were not present to hear my reasons during the ritual, as you are way too young for that, I might as well tell you.</p>
<p>“It is a Keeper's place to remember the old stories. To keep traditions alive and pass them on to the people. I was tempted to choose Dirthamen, for lore, and loyalty. But what good is it to preserve the legends and values of the past, when there is no one to pass them on to? To keep alive our culture, I have to keep alive our people first and foremost. For me, being Keeper means I have to keep you save. Who better to grant my wish than the Protector herself?”</p>
<p>He patted her head and gave a quiet sigh, remembering the times his prayers to Mythal had fallen on deaf ears. “Now, Dirthamen. Which one is his? Draw it for me, da'len.”</p>
<p>“Do I have to? I can tell...”</p>
<p>“One day, you will be the one applying the bloodwriting. So, you'll need to be able to draw the marks, not just identify them. Dirthamen, da'len.” He lightly tapped the stick against her hand until she took it.</p>
<p>“Dirthamen,” she echoed and wiped the ground clean from the lines he had drawn. Yet she still hesitated to make a mark of her own. “That's the one with all the tiny triangles. Does it matter how many? I don't remember.... I never counted...”</p>
<p>“Try, da'len. It does not have to be perfect the first time.”</p>
<p>She began dragging the stick trough the dirt, attempting to give shape to the image in her mind, sticking out her tongue in the process. “I don't... it looks all wrong. It's supposed to look like a bird.”</p>
<p>“And which bird would that be?”</p>
<p>“A raven of course. He had two of them. Only I'm not sure if they were really ravens. Or just something that looked like it. Trying to look harmless. But he saw through them. That's why he was able to beat them. He was not blinded by their lies.”</p>
<p>“And that's how he was able to follow Falon'din. Can you draw the mark of Falon'din?”</p>
<p>“I guess...” she scratched new lines in the dirt. “That one does not make sense to me,” she complained, “what is it supposed to show?”</p>
<p>“What do you think it shows?”</p>
<p>“I don't know,” she scowled down at her work, “it doesn't look like much, does it?”</p>
<p>Keeper Amelan corrected her lines and added a few. “Better?” he asked, smiling, “Now, what do you see? Surely you and your brother have looked up at the clouds and told each other what shapes you saw. This is not all that different. Just tell me what you see.”</p>
<p>“I... um...” she pointed at the upper part, “that... c-could be a deer? If that's the head, with the antlers, and... it would make sense, wouldn't it? The first time Falon'din passed to the Beyond, he carried a deer, so...” She scratched her head. “Might be a tree, though. For the life-trees, the Vallasdahlen, cause those lines below look like roots, or something. They don't make any sense otherwise.”</p>
<p>“Oh? Are you certain?”</p>
<p>“No”, she admitted. “Why would we use a tree both for Mythal and for Falon’din? That would just confuse things, wouldn’t it? That doesn’t make any sense. But what else could they be? They don’t make sense!” She insisted.</p>
<p>“That is why we need guidance, da'len. To make sense of the things we do not understand. Not think. What else might they be but roots?”</p>
<p>They both were quiet for some time, with Nydhalan chewing her thumbnail, lost in thought.</p>
<p>“The Beyond?“, she finally asked, “The paths walked behind the Veil? In uthenera?”<br/><br/></p>
<p>The Keeper stroked her hair affectionately. “Very good, da’len. That leaves us with only two of the Creators and their vallaslin.”</p>
<p>“June and Andruil,” she said at once, “I'm not sure which is which, though.”</p>
<p>“And why is that, da'len?”</p>
<p>This time, she did not need his encouragement to draw in the dirt, one next to the other. Her lines were crooked, incomplete, yet capturing the essence of it well enough. “That's their vallaslin. One is a bow, and the other two trees, their branches intertwining,” she pointed at the left drawing. “The bow makes sense for Andruil, the Huntress. Because of the first two parts of the Vir Tanadhal: Vir Assan, the Way of the Arrow, and Vir Bor'assan, the Way of the Bow.</p>
<p>“But it is June who crafted bow and arrows and gave them to the people. He taught us how to bend the branches of the trees,” she pointed at the other drawing, “so, they both fit him.”</p>
<p>“But how would this one fit Andruil?” he asked of her.</p>
<p>“The Vir Tanadhal. The Way of Three Trees. The third part is Vir Adahlen, the Way of the Forest.”</p>
<p>“That are only two trees, da'len. Two trees don't make a forest,” he pointed out.</p>
<p>“I know. But... it's like a map. Drawing the land on a piece of parchment. You have to make it smaller. Simpler.”</p>
<p>“You mean it's a symbol. Symbols simplify things while keeping true to the core of the image or idea they represent.”</p>
<p>“Symbol,” she repeated, “yes. That. It would be hard to fit a whole forest on a single face.”</p>
<p>He laughed at that. Laughed, then coughed, then wheezed. His body convulsed around hers. Her hands flew to his chest, hoping to ease his breathing, and lingered over his heart.</p>
<p>“I'm sorry, Keeper. I'm sorry!”</p>
<p>He righted himself and drew her closer, onto his lap. “It's alright, da'len,” he rasped, “you did nothing wrong.”</p>
<p>“I did,” she insisted, close to tears, “I did. I said it wrong.” She looked distraught, guilt for having caused one of his coughing fits distorting her features.</p>
<p>“No, da'len,” he reassured her, trying to keep his voice steady and smooth. “You most certainly did not. You put more thought into this than most your age would. Do go on.”</p>
<p>He looked at her expectantly, so she continued, albeit haltingly, “Vir Adahlen, the Way of the Forest: together we are stronger than the one. A forest is made up of trees, like a clan is made up of people. The tree could be a single person, with the clan making up the forest. Or it could be a whole clan, with all of the clans being the forest.” She pointed at the lines crossing each other. “If the trees are people, then the branches, weaving together... that's where they connect. Cross paths.”</p>
<p>Then she pointed below, at the part of the vallaslin that would cover the chin and throat, were it drawn on a person's skin instead of in the dirt. “It's two trees, but they share one root. The clans may be separate, but they are all Dalish. Each tree stands on his own, but together, they are a forest. Each Clan travels on their own, but together, we are the Elvhen.”</p>
<p>The keeper gave a low hum, “I have to admit, I never looked at it that way. They do seem somewhat interchangeable if you put it like that. Yet tradition tells us that the bow represents Andruil, and the bending branches June.”</p>
<p>“If you say so, Keeper,” she did not sound wholly convinced.</p>
<p>He rather liked the way her mind worked. Whenever he had taught an apprentice, he had questioned as much as he had told. He had always encouraged them to try and puzzle things out for themselves rather than just presenting them with a solution. A person's thoughts should be able to exceed their teachings, not simply cling to them in blind obedience.</p>
<p>“You have so much of your mother in you,” he mused, mussing up her hair. They might not be alike in appearance, what with her and even more so the boy taking in part after the unknown father. Their facial features were similar enough, but the colouring was off. And while Ivun was as much a rascal as their mother had been growing up, Nydhalan had a gentler, somewhat timid nature. The way the girl had used the Vir Tanadhal to support her theory had reminded him vividly of Naema though. Nydalan looked down, fiddling with the stick they had used to draw in the dirt.</p>
<p>“Hahren Lahnehn talks of her sometimes. She said she was stubborn. Fierce. Always confronting things head-on. I'm not sure I can be like that,” she said it almost as if there were something wrong with being her own person.</p>
<p>“You are more soft-spoken, but you share her inquisitive nature, Belavahni.” The nickname had come to him without second thought. Belavahni. One with many questions. It fit her so well. “Naema always tried to make sense of things instead of simply accepting them. Sometimes she would ask the most startling questions. And even if we were at odds more often than not, I do miss our arguments. Did I ever tell you how she earned her vallaslin?”</p>
<p>She sqirmed slightly and tugged at his sleeve the way she was wont to do when asking permission, especially for something she thought he might refuse. “Can I go find Ivun? I really want to know, but he should hear it too.”</p>
<p>“If you run after him now, I won't see either of you for the rest of the day I'm afraid. The story will keep until bedtime.” She tried to hide her disappointment, but her face was far easier to read than ancient elvish. “There is a right time and place for most things, da'len,” he reminded her. “The pelt you sleep on is from the bear your mother brought down to prove herself. It will be only fitting to honour the bear's sacrifice by telling the story before you go to sleep, don't you think? I still have much to teach you.”</p>
<p>Nydhalan cast down her eyes. “Andruil, aim me true,” she whispered a prayer to the goddess. Like an arrow blown off target by the wind, her mind would be drawn from her duties by other things, mostly her twin brother. She had skipped fewer lessons this week than the week before, though. If the gods were good, there would be more than enough time to pass his wisdom. If not to her, then at least to Deshanna.</p>
<p>Usually, the three of them would sit together during lessons, with both of them listening to him, or Deshanna taking over to prove what she already knew. He hardly ever had to correct her. Today his First had set out to gather more healing herbs, because the embrium used to ease his breathing had almost run out of stock. He took another sip from the herbal tea she had brewed for him, to soothe the scratchy feeling that did not seem to want to leave his throat these days.</p>
<p>Reminded of his age by the frailty of his body, he began to spin the tale of Arlathan, when the people had been eternal and there had been no need to rush things. He told her, in as much detail as he could muster, about the first contact to the shemlen, the quicklings, and how it had quickened the lives of the Elvhen as well.</p>
<p>By the time Deshanna had returned with her bags full of herbs and brewed a new batch of tea, his voice had started to give way. “I think that's enough history for today. Nydhalan should know about healing as well. Deshanna, why don't you take over?” He watched, and listened, weary to the bone, as his First showed his Second the herbs she had gathered, told where to find and how best to harvest them, and what to use them for.</p>
<p>“These are for the ritual cleansing of the body and the skin before the Keeper applies the vallaslin,” Deshanna said just now, indicating several of the herbs.</p>
<p>They would hold the ritual in a few days when everything was ready. He wondered if the girl was ready as well. She had learned enough, her skill and her devotion earning her the right to bear the markings. And even though she had agreed, he was not sure if she would be able to bear the pain of receiving them in silence. If he was rushing into things because he needed her to be ready.</p>
<p>For a couple years after the incident with the templars, the Clan had been divided. They had managed to muddle through until the last Arlathvhen, then those who disagreed with his policies, and those who blamed him for their losses, had split off. At one stroke, he’d been robbed of all the mages remaining to him up till then. He had been without any potential apprentices, his age certain to leave the Clan without a Keeper, until Deshanna.</p>
<p>She was a blessing that Clan Istimaethoriel had bestowed on him. They had been compensated for their loss, but still he felt like he had not done enough to thank them. Belavahni and her twin brother had been bestowed on the clan during the Arlathvhen as well, though no one had known back then, not even Naema. And Belavahni had come into her magic just after he had told Deshanna that he deemed her ready to receive her vallaslin.</p>
<p>Amelan should have felt joy at the prospect of teaching another apprentice, not dread. Yet the timing gave him pause. Was this coincidence, or the will of the gods? A Keeper needed a First. He watched Deshanna, deep in thought. <em>She'll make a good Keeper</em>, he told himself. There had to be some chance to express his gratitude again during the next Arlathvhen. If the gods were good.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Bloodwriting<br/>Belavahni</p>
<p>most of the names I use for clan Lavellan come from Project Elvhen: Book of Names. Kudos to FenxShiral for creating and sharing such a great resource!</p>
<p>I figure that Nydhalan was around five years old when her magic revealed itself, and that she might be a bit more eloquent than usual because of her interest in the old stories, and her and her brother being gifted in regard to language.<br/>Hope she does not come off too adult for a five year old, the way she talks.</p>
<p>The incident that sundered clan Lavellan and left Amelan (technically) without a First was Templars hunting down an elvhen apostate even into the dalish camp. He lost most of the clan's mages due to this attack.<br/>Two children with magical abilities were killed in the attack, his own great-grandchild one of them, and Amelan's First turned his back on the Keeper after.<br/>Trying to channel a spirit, in a desperate attempt to expand her healing abilities and prevent the death of a loved one, turned his granddaughter, who was his Second, into an abomination.<br/><br/>The clan stayed together, but divided, until the next Arlathvhen.</p>
<p>Part of the clan felt that Amelan's views had been to liberal, being on very good terms with the Alienages of any settlings the clan passed by. Amelan used to visit the Alienages to offer trade and healing to the City Elves, and take in any Elves that wanted to join (those disillusioned with living among shemlen, orphaned with noone to care for them, or Apostates trying to escape the Circles).<br/>Blaming this for the templar attack, those disagreeing with Amelan's policy split off from Clan Lavellan at the Arlathvhen; some joning other, more traditional clans, or following Amelan's First, forming a new, smaller clan.</p>
<p>Clan Lavellan's previous First took the rest of the Clan's mages (his wife and children) with him, leaving the elderly Keeper without an apprentice until he was offered Deshanna by clan Istimaethoriel.</p>
<p>Having to kill his own granddaughter after she turned into an abomination is part of the reason Amelan is adamant about spirits being dangerous, and drilling Nydhalan (later called Belavahni) in the importance of controlling herself and her emotions. Of course, she can't be in control all of the time, but she tries her very best.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. B 2/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Belavahni always tried to be aware and in control of her feelings. She had not realized she was falling for Cullen, because she had not considered it likely she'd ever fall for a shemlen, let alone an ex-templar. Friendship was one thing, but this hit her rather unexpectedly.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don't.” As soon as Belavahni had touched the piece, Cullen had reached out to stop her. “If you make that move, you'll be lost in three. Can you see why?”</p>
<p>Her lips felt dry all of a sudden. She stared at the board, yet all she could see was his hand on hers. Her tongue darted out nervously. “I...” she bit her lower lip. Her mind was in a haze. She wanted them to touch, truly touch, skin on skin. His gloves gone, their palms pressed together, fingers entwined. She finally admitted to herself, “I'm already lost.”</p>
<p>“You're in deep. You're not out of options however.”</p>
<p>His hand was still on hers. There was no need for that. Belavahni’s eyes sought out Cullen's, heart hammering. “Such as?” Her mind came up within another scenario, concentrating on the amount of skin that was already revealed; foreheads touching and noses bumping. Sharing a breath, a kiss. Lips meeting, parting, tasting.</p>
<p>Cullen smirked like the cat who got the cream. “You tend to be defensive, but sooner or later you have to let your guard down.”</p>
<p>She already had, and she couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened. Or, more precisely, when it had started. It had been happening gradually. Until now.</p>
<p>He leaned in, lowering his voice as if telling a secret, “If you take the initiative, it might pay off.”</p>
<p>She wet her lips again, nervously, gravitating towards Cullen. The table was small enough for them to meet in the middle, if... Her eyes darted downwards, to where their fingers were still touching — had been, a mere moment ago. The instant she'd broken eye contact, Cullen had withdrawn.</p>
<p>She'd only just recognized the odd flutter in her stomach for what it was. Just as abruptly the butterflies turned into a swarm of bats, clawed wings flapping frantically. Creators, what had just happened? Chess, he'd been talking about Chess, and she'd... She could not do this. Not on a whim.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The word inspiring this fic was:<br/>Butterflies</p>
<p>so, now Belavahni is aware she has a crush. That does not mean she's going to jump straight into things. I tend to write my romances slow-burn. It probably does not show as well with disconnected scenes, but I plan to do a full novelization of DAI later on.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. B 3/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The romance between Dorian and The Iron Bull was an unexpected gem during my playthrough. I found it interesting, how it started out as sex and then turned into something more, that can even last past Trespasser, if Bull turned Tal'Vashoth. Luckily my Lavellan made the relevant decisions to ensure their happy end, even before I knew how things would develop, or else I'd have broken poor Dorian's heart (and my own) in Trespasser.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Bull? What you said before... ‘bout wantin’ to roar like that...” Belavahni’s speech was slurred. She swallowed some sounds as if her tongue had forgotten how to form them all of a sudden. She was avidly reminded of the red templars, their terrible screeching, noises so monstrous they seemed to prove that these were no longer people but something past saving.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” Bull prompted, as she seemed to have lost track of thought.</p>
<p>“You... Your roar's fine jus’ the way ‘tis.”</p>
<p>He grinned, looking flattered, and she wasn't quite sure if it was because of the compliment itself or because she'd cared enough to make it. “Aww.” Somehow, despite coming out in a low rumble, this sound seemed fitting for being faced with a litter of puppies or something equally cute. She thought back to the little, almost bashful smile he'd shown when Gatt commented that he had given the chargers the easier task. And the anger and worry when suggested they leave the chargers to die. “You're just saying that, boss.”</p>
<p>“No,” she shook her head vigorously, “Mean it. Impressive. The dragon I mean. But it's not... you're not...” It had been her who had given the order, her who had pulled the rug out from under him, the rules of the Qun that had smothered him while promising safety. It was only right that she be the one to offer solid ground as well, to reassure him. “No person should be able to make a sound like that.”</p>
<p>She crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. Bull inclined his head and she made a grab for his horn; twice, because somehow the damn thing evaded her without moving. She'd never have been able to reach it had they both been standing. Even now, as she latched on and tugged, she knew she was only able to pull him down because he let her. Her face lit with a brilliant smile. To her this simple gesture just confirmed what she was about to say.</p>
<p>“The Iron Bull,” she whispered into his ear as if telling a secret. Before Cole had said it out loud, she'd never thought about it – the way he mocked himself to mask his fear. She had made sure to put the „The“ in this time. It seemed important to do so, to address him not only with the name he had chosen for himself, but with all of it instead of a shortened form. How else would he know that she meant to address all of him with her next words? She made sure to pronounce them as clearly as she could, “You... are not... a beast.”</p>
<p>She placed a soft kiss high on his cheek, just between ear and eyepatch. Then she let go of his horn and had to grab on to the table instead, swaying dangerously in her seat. Bull reached out a hand towards her, to steady her if need be.</p>
<p>“Thanks, Boss,” his voice was so low she almost missed it. They both sat in silence for a moment.<br/>“Well then...” he cleared his throat, pouring out another measure of the foul brew and raising his tankard. “To Dragons!” he boomed.</p>
<p>“To...” she lifted hers likewise, contemplating it a little cross-eyed. Who was she to judge if the Bull got turned on by a dragon’s roar? For her it was a certain commander’s voice. “To each his own.”</p>
<p>As she made to drink a hand covered the mug. She knew it was Dorian's even before he spoke, no one else in Skyhold wore that many rings on one hand. “Now, now, leave something for the rest of us, will you?” He gave the tankard a cursory sniff and cursed. “Fasta vass! What is this vile stuff?”</p>
<p>“It's...” she piped up, remembering only then that she didn't remember its name, and started giggling instead, half sitting on her chair, half splayed over the table. “Virile,” — more giggling — “I think you mean virile.” Her head was spinning. Why hadn't she noticed that before?</p>
<p>“It's definitely gone to her head,” Dorian commented dryly, and she wondered how he had managed to look inside her head. Maybe Cole had taught him somehow. Oh, maybe he could teach her, too!<br/>She rested her head on her left arm, the right reaching towards Dorian, index finger pointing, like a pupil trying to gain their mentor's attention.</p>
<p>Before she could ask him however, Bull spoke up, “She's doing well.” Bull somehow sounded proud, and it made her feel that way in turn. “Thought she'd be under the table after the second mug.”</p>
<p>“The second... How much did you give her to drink?”</p>
<p>“Don't...” she poked at Dorian's chest repeatedly to really gain his attention, making sure to aim for where part of it was laid bare due to his habit of wearing asymmetrical clothes that only covered one shoulder. Though, to be honest, she hit cloth more often than not. “Don' talk ‘bout me like I'm not there.” Her fingers curled around the hem of his shoulder-free shirt-thingy, holding on tightly. Turning around to face him had not been a good idea. The room refused to stay still now.</p>
<p>Still, she had to get across her point. “I'm not the Inqui... the... Ink...” her tongue refused to form the word, and she fell back on Sera's nickname, “I'm not Inky right now... I'm jus’ me. So, don' talk like I'm not there.”</p>
<p>“All right,” Dorian agreed, addressing the her instead of Bull, “how much did you have to drink?”</p>
<p>She screwed up her face, trying to remember. It shouldn't be that hard, should it?</p>
<p>“She had no more than me,” The Iron Bull said defensively.</p>
<p>“You're at least three times her size, you big brute!“ Dorian snapped.</p>
<p>“He's not!” she protested. And it wasn't even about Dorian insinu... insul... making fun of her size. How could he talk like that when she had spent so much effort to reassure Bull. He would ruin it! Her next words were halting, interspersed with hick-ups, “He... isn't. He's not... a brute.”</p>
<p>Dorian rolled his eyes. “That's it. Off you go.”</p>
<p>He gently tugged at her elbow to get her to her feet. She briefly wondered when the floor had turned into an unruly mount, trying to buck her off. For once she was absurdly glad for Dorian's fashion sense, the flamboyant robes with their numerous straps and buckles and whatnot that had always seemed so... unnecessary before now. While she certainly appreciated the straps as something to cling to, Dorian did not approve. It earned her a light swat on the back of her hand, and a reprimanding, “Careful, those were costly.”</p>
<p>Then the swaying intensified as Dorian swept her from her unsteady feet, though she couldn't quite tell whether it was chivalry or mere concern for his clothes. She was too busy groaning and flailing over the sudden vertigo, smacking Dorian in the face.</p>
<p>“Honestly!” he huffed, “You're just...”</p>
<p>Her hand found his face again, careful this time, in part to take the sting out of the accidental slap, and to quieten him. “Don't,” she pleaded, her hand covering half his cheek and half his mouth, the moustache tickling her palm. Aiming had become difficult, words as well. <em>Don't be angry. Don't talk like that. Don't treat me like a child.</em> Dorian huffed again, his breath hot on the back of her hand, and shot Bull a last withering look. Then he carried her from the tavern without so much as a backwards glance.</p>
<p>“Don' call him—”, hick-up, „—stuff like that. He's not—”, hick-up, „— a savage. He's—”, hick-up. How was Dorian supposed to take her seriously like that? She couldn't even finish a simple sentence. Still, it needed saying. “He's not—  a brute— either,“ she insisted, her hick-ups interrupting her every couple syllables. “He cares— too much— to be— a brute.”</p>
<p>“He should not have made you drunk like this,” Dorian sounded angry, shouldering through another door, up a flight of stairs.</p>
<p>“He didn't—  he... poured. I... drank.”</p>
<p>“So, you're saying I should not hold the Bull responsible for your decisions.”</p>
<p>She beamed up at him, glad that he put so splendidly into words what she had meant to convey. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“All right,” a small pause, “then why do you hold yourself responsible for his decision?”</p>
<p>“Is different,” she mumbled.</p>
<p>“How so?” Dorian asked, setting her down on a bed in a room she had not even realized him entering.</p>
<p>“‘Cause it wasn't his decision. I made it for him.”</p>
<p>“Whatever gave you that idea? You know what, never mind.” Dorian knelt in front of her and pulled off her shoes. “Let's get you to bed, shall we? Maybe talk this out when you're sober?”</p>
<p>He tugged the covers out from under her behind. Even this simple motion nearly sent her sprawling, and he grabbed her hand hastily.</p>
<p>“I did!” she was close to tears now, “I ordered him.”</p>
<p>“He could have refused. Now hush.” He guided her softly to lay down on the bed and snugly pulled the blankets over her. Yet she refused to let go of his hand.</p>
<p>“I think you hurt his feelings,” she sniffled.</p>
<p>“I think you overestimate my abilities – in this matter, at least,” Dorian quipped, though she could feel the way his hand tensed in hers. She kept stroking it with her thumb.</p>
<p>“I don't. He cares about your opinion, Dorian. He cares about you. I've seen the way he looks at you.”</p>
<p>“I am exceptionally nice to look at. Of course, he'd want to look.”</p>
<p>“No... it's not that. Not... just wanting. Longing.” <em>Fond.</em> She thought. <em>Tender. </em>She nuzzled his hand, sighing. “I want that too.”</p>
<p>“You want to ride the Bull?” Dorian deflected, “He'll be delighted to hear it, I'm sure.”</p>
<p>“Not the Bull,” she mumbled, as she drifted off to sleep, “the lion. And not just riding. I want to walk with him. Talk with him. Be with him.”</p>
<p>“Interesting.”</p>
<p>“Some days… seems almos’… possible,” she yawned, not sure if the tears collecting in the corners of her eyes were from that, or from drunken despair. She had no time to ponder it, however, falling asleep without further ado.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Beast<br/>Brute<br/>Booze<br/>Bed</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. C 1/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a personal conversation between Cullen and Lavellan. The chess is more like their excuse to sit together and talk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„I still haven’t gotten around to playing…“ She glanced at the hexagonal tiles, the unfamiliar pieces. „Well, whatever it's called, before.“<br/>
„That would be chess.“<br/>
„Wait, that’s chess?“ She pointed at the board almost accusingly. „It doesn’t look like any chessboard I’ve ever seen.“</p><p>„Square?“ He teased, and she felt a fool.<br/>
„Plain.“ She shot back. „The pieces threw me off. Too fancy. And too many of them.“<br/>
„Just two more for each player.“<br/>
She cocked her head. „A pawn and a mage, I assume?“<br/>
Cullen seemed part amused; part intrigued.<br/>
„Why?“</p><p>„Mages move diagonally, limited to one color. On a square board only two colors are needed to alternate between tiles. These tiles have six sides, adding one more color to the pattern, so one more mage seems logical. The pawns form the front line, which requires an uneven number.“<br/>
„Nine or seven.“ He agreed. „There’s more than one variation. You’re sure you haven’t played before?“<br/>
„I’ve seen others playing.“</p><p>She grinned ruefully. „On a square board.“<br/>
„It doesn’t change all that much. Care to learn?“<br/>
Belavahni smiled. „If you’re willing to give it another try, I promise I won’t run off this time.“<br/>
She slipped into the seat opposite him and watched as he set the board, naming each piece and explaining the slight differences to the rules she was vaguely familiar with.<br/>
<em>Three mages</em>, she mused, <em>each on a differently colored tile. Black and white, like in the circles under the respective Chantry. Grey for apostates.</em></p><p>She didn't put voice to these idle thoughts, shaking them off to concentrate on what Cullen actually said instead of just soaking up the sound. When he wasn't barking orders or proposing strategies, his voice lost its edge and took on a warm timbre that made her want to bask in it like a cat in a patch of sunlight. She could have listened to that voice all day long, but soon enough Cullen had summarized the whole game.<br/>
„You win when your opponent's king can no longer escape capture.“ He finished.</p><p>So the king was the most important piece on the board, but almost the least powerful; his movement limited to only neighboring fields. She definitely did not want to draw any parallels to life there.<br/>
Instead she rattled off the rules Cullen had just told her, to see if she remembered them all correctly.<br/>
He assured her that she had them down pat and then started the game.</p><p>She was distracted though, by his smile, the small talk , the simple fact that they were spending time together without discussing another disaster that needed to be dealt with.<br/>
She carefully considered her first move, though she had no illusions of winning. Not against a man who had been playing for years, practicing for weeks early on. By now he had probably mastered the game, and couldn't be threatened by a novice like her.<br/>
She needn't make an utter fool of herself, however. So, she tried to split her attention halfway between him and the board, asking: „You have siblings?“</p><p>A stupid choice of words, perhaps, seeing as he had just told her about them. But he took it for what it was, simply a request for more details, and seemed happy enough to oblige.<br/>
„Two sisters and a brother.“<br/>
„Where are they now?“ Considering the fate of her own twin, that was a dangerous question. She thought, however, that she'd have picked up on any tragedy from a change in tone. Probably.<br/>
„They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write them as often as I should.“</p><p>„You should change that.“ She blurted out, unthinking.<br/>
His hand, about to pick up a piece, paused mid move.<br/>
„Oh?“ He still smiled, but somewhat wryly.<br/>
„I'm sorry.“ She ducked her head, half hiding it behind her hand. „It's not my place to say. It's just...“<br/>
She glanced up at him from beneath her fingers.<br/>
„Just what?“ He prompted.</p><p>„Do you have any idea how lucky you are? To know where your family is right now? To have them steady, settled in the same place for the past ten years? To know where to send your letters to, where to go if you wanted to visit?“<br/>
She felt like she had just put her foot in her mouth. Both feet, probably. One for writing letters. The other for visits. He had not seen them in years, he'd said. She knew next to nothing about him, and even less about his family. Who was she to question?</p><p>Belavahni scooted backwards on her chair, suddenly aware how she had been halfway leaning over the table, trying to impress the importance of the matter on Cullen.<br/>
<em>The Inquisitor, reading personal letters and reuniting estranged families all over Thedas.</em><br/>
Dorian's encounter with his father should have taught her not to make a habit of sticking her nose into that sort of thing. And yet...<br/>
The thought of Cullen wasting the chance to keep in contact irked her, especially with him being so casual about it.</p><p>The last time she had seen her clan, they had been near Ostwick, sending her off to spy on the Conclave. The next time she had heard from them, they had already been near Wycome . And she had no idea where they might end up after that, once they were forced to leave. Even if they planned to go a certain direction, the course of the aravels was decided by too many varying factors to ever be steady. It had not bothered her as much when she had still been with them, but now... if not for the Inquisition, she would not be able to keep track of them. And while she was grateful for every single word sent back and forth through their messengers, it was not enough. It never would be.</p><p>„I think I see why the thought would appeal to you.“<br/>
Cullen's voice was soft, understanding, putting her to shame. Belavahni shook her head slightly.<br/>
„Still, I shouldn't have...“ <em>assumed he writes once a decade or so? For all you know he could be writing them once a month and consider </em><strong><em>that</em></strong><em> not often enough.</em><br/>
Her eyes were trained on the board. She tried to make sense of the way he had positioned his pieces thus far, to guess at his next move. He already had her in a defensive position where their conversation was concerned. It wouldn't do to let her guard down at both fronts. She would go down fighting, at least.</p><p>„So, what about you?“ He returned the question. „Any siblings?“<br/>
„A brother .“ She hoped her short answer did not come off as terse. Right now her mind was occupied with the decision which of her pieces to sacrifice first, and she took it quite serious. <br/>
„Younger or older?“ He wanted to know.<br/>
„Older.“ She made her choice, placed her piece, and felt free to hold an actual conversation – for as long as it would take him to consider his next move, at least – instead of treating his questions like she was ticking off items on a requisition list.<br/>
„Well, twins, actually. He came rather quickly, but me… I’m told I took my time. Our mother never recovered.“</p><p>„I’m so sorry to hear that.“<br/>
„No need. Having lost my mother before I even knew her, I experienced the loss more… indirect, through the pain of people I cared about. Her younger brother would have claimed us as his own, if only he’d had his vallaslin back then. Even when he was not given sole responsibility, he helped take care of us to the best of his abilities. He later bonded the First, who’d been like an older sister to me. I never felt lacking in regards of family. Both my uncle and aunt had helped to raise me, assisting the Hahren and Keeper. They were the closest I had to parents, even if they were old enough to be my grand- or even great-grandparents.“</p><p>„You had a happy childhood, then?“<br/>
„At least early on. Our uncle doted on us shamelessly, and orphaned as we were, I believe we were given a bit more leeway than usual. Ivun and I were inseparable as kids, always out and about. Exploring. Both too curious for our own good. Then of course, I came into my magic.“<br/>
She half smiled, half sighed. „Everything changed after that.“<br/>
He stilled, the piece he'd meant to place hovering above the board. Somehow, he seemed to sense that she'd be less talkative once it was her turn again and held back his move.<br/>
„How so?“</p><p>„The Keeper took me as his apprentice.“<br/>
„His? I thought...“<br/>
„Different Keeper back then.“<br/>
Cullen only gave a slight nod of understanding, not pressing for details.<br/>
She was glad for that. Keeper Amelan hadn't simply been a father figure to her because of his role as Keeper and hers as his apprentice. He'd been a father to her and her brother ever since they'd been born, the way Hahren Lahnehn had been their mother, seeing as they had never known their real parents. Some days, she still felt his loss keenly, like an old wound acting up.</p><p>„Anyway. There was so much to learn. Lore and leadership and magic. He made sure there wasn't much time for getting into trouble. And to properly scold me when I managed to sneak off and do so nonetheless.“<br/>
Cullen actually grinned at that.<br/>
„Adults are wont to do that.“ He nodded at the board. „Your turn again.“<br/>
„Yeah, well...“ She tried closing the gap in her defenses caused by the loss of another piece.</p><p>Things were deteriorating at an alarming rate. It wouldn't take long now for Cullen to finish her off, but she did not want it to be over so soon. Not when the game gave her the perfect excuse to keep talking to him.<br/>
„The Keeper was even better at wielding guilt than magic. It kind of took the fun out of adventuring. Before, it was just the two of us being kids, testing our boundaries and sometimes overstepping them. Being the Keeper's apprentice, it felt irresponsible all of a sudden, like I was possibly endangering the future of the whole clan. So I stopped.“<br/>
The last word was accentuated by the soft clacking noise as Cullen placed his piece.</p><p>For a few moments, there was only the rustling of leaves, the distant sounds from training troops. A bird calling.<br/>
„You two grew apart, then?“ Tentative, apparently unsure if he should touch the topic or not.<br/>
„Sort of.“ She agreed.<br/>
The game had come to a hold, dragged down by the sudden weight of their conservation.<br/>
She stared at the board, tapping her fingers. Stared and tried to make up her mind.</p><p>After a while, Cullen cocked his head.<br/>
„Are you thinking about your next move? Or just thinking?“<br/>
„I'm sorry.“ She interlocked her fingers to stop herself from tapping on the table.<br/>
„Don't be. Take your time.“<br/>
She wasn't quite sure if he meant the game, or their conversation, but she finally caved.<br/>
„The stupid thing is...“ Her fingers twitched, yearning to resume the tapping again. „He – my brother, that is – turned out to be a mage as well. But by the time his talents emerged, I had been in training for years.“</p><p>„So, if you had discovered this together, there would have been no need for separation.“ Cullen concluded.<br/>
„That's not it.“ She picked up the chess piece she intended to move, a mage incidentally, but rolled it around in her hand instead.<br/>
„I had envied him his freedom.“ She tried to explain. „Free to roam the surrounding area whenever he felt like it. Free from the future responsibility of leading the clan. Free to sleep without fear of having to fend of demons. But I never would have wished magic on him.“</p><p>Cullen's smile was faint, barely there. „I don't think that's how it works. You're a mage, or you're not. It's as simple as that.“<br/>
„You don't understand.“ How could he? He was not Dalish, after all. Like she could forget that. He was not even an elf.<br/>
She placed the piece, unthinking, possibly ruining whatever chance she had had at not making a tactical blunder out of their first match. Right now, she didn't care.<br/>
„You know, if you want to cheat, you'll have to do better than that.“ <br/>
„What?“</p><p>Cullen smiled crookedly.<br/>
„Don't act so surprised. Leliana and Dorian do it too. She's swift, and he's subtle, or at least trying to be. Not that it does either of them any good. You're painfully obvious, though.“<br/>
She must have broken the rules with her last move. She glanced down at the board, her hand still halfway outstretched to the offending piece, then up at Cullen.<br/>
„I'm not...“<br/>
<em>I'm not even sure where I went wrong. Other than letting my guard down of course.</em></p><p>„Not obvious, or not cheating?“ Cullen teased.<br/>
Face flushing, she fixated the board, trying to figure out and correct her mistake.<br/>
Mages moved only diagonally, but she did not remember where exactly she had taken the piece from. Then she realized she did not have to. Diagonal movement meant moving only on tiles of the same color.<br/>
„You have two of your mages on grey.“ Cullen pointed out just as she became aware of it herself.</p><p>She forced a smile.<br/>
„Well, we can't have that, can we?“<br/>
The words almost stuck in her throat and she swallowed. Why was this so hard all of a sudden?<br/>
She nudged the chess piece back to white, once she had eliminated the tile to the right as a possibility and chosen one of the remaining two adjoining tiles, neither of them breaking the rules. „Back where you belong.“</p><p>Her chest felt too tight, a distinct pain pushing along her breastbone like an invisible weight, turning each breath into an effort.<br/>
These weren't people, just pieces carved from stone. Yet they suddenly seemed more, a symbol for what she was struggling with, torn between talking to someone and keeping her silence.<br/>
The pieces on the board seemed to mock her. Ivun captured by templars, represented by the piece she’d pushed from grey to white.<br/>
Three mages on each side, no more.</p><p>When she looked up again, she caught a glimpse of Cole over Cullen's shoulder, drawing closer, homing in on her hurt.<br/>
<em>No, no, no.</em><br/>
She'd embarrassed herself enough already, she did NOT need help with that.<br/>
„I'm sorry. I will do better next time.“ She tried to excuse herself before the spirit could reach them and spill her thoughts once again. „Not... cheating, of course. Just the game in general.“<br/>
She gave an exasperated sigh. „Provided there is a next time. I guess I'm no good at this.“</p><p>„Neither am I.“<br/>
She had already scooted backwards and shifted her weight, both hands on the table to push herself up and out of the chair, but his words gave her pause. He could not possibly mean the game.<br/>
Her eyes flicked to Cole, hovering among one of the stone arches surrounding the garden, watching, waiting. Then they came to rest on Cullen's face. She liked how honest and open it was at all times, and right now she was sure she caught a hint of disappointment.</p><p>Her shoulders drooped slowly and simultaneously her back straightened, settling her more firmly in the chair again almost without her notice.<br/>
„What do you mean?“ She wanted to know.<br/>
Cullen gave her a cautious smile.<br/>
„You promised not to run off, remember? So, if you leave before we are finished, it’s because I drove you off.“<br/>
„No, I…“ She flushed. „I didn’t mean…“</p><p>„You made a wrong move on the chessboard. Yet I went wrong in our conversation. Your head simply wasn't in the game. Mine so much so that I didn't notice. My apologies. You were leading up to something and I wasn't listening. I'll listen now. If you still want to talk about it.“<br/>
She returned his smile, a little unsure. „If you care to finish the game.“<br/>
It would take her a few moments to work up her courage again.</p><p>„Your turn.“ She reminded him. She wasn't trying to change the subject, just... take off the edge. The world hadn't stood still back then, why would it now?<br/>
Cullen steered the conversation and the pieces on the board with renewed care, alerted by the subtle shift of her voice. She had not quite managed to keep it even.<br/>
„I was under the impression that the Dalish valued magic. Viewed it as a gift.“<br/>
„They do.“<br/>
„Do you as well?“</p><p>At her puzzled look he elaborated: „You said 'they'. Not 'we'.“<br/>
„I do.“ She insisted. „We do. Mostly. Sometimes I'm not so sure.“<br/>
„There's got to be more than the occasional doubt to not wanting your brother to be a mage.“<br/>
There was. She could have given him another reason than the one she had such trouble talking about. Yet she found she didn't want to. The words were bitter like bile at the back of her throat, so she finally forced them out.</p><p>„I wasn't First back then. I was Second.“<br/>
This time, he caught on immediately.<br/>
„And no more than three mages per clan.“<br/>
She wondered if he knew that because of his Templar background, or if he had been talking to Minaeve, too. <br/>
„So this rule... it's strict? No exceptions?“</p><p>„I'm not quite sure how to explain.“<br/>
Each clan should have three mages. That was the rule. Sometimes she wondered if those words had been misinterpreted. Mages had been rare among the Dalish. So perhaps the rule had once meant each clan should have at least three mages, instead of no more than three, and gotten twisted around once the amount of magically gifted children outgrew that number.</p><p>One last look for Cole was in vain, he had vanished as quickly as he had come.<br/>
She still felt awful about the whole subject, but apparently Cole did not think it necessary to intervene anymore. Talking helped, and she was doing so of her own accord. He had been patient enough to wait for her to open up, like she had asked. She'd have to find and thank him later.</p><p>„It's like... humans seem to think all Dalish are the same. That may be true on the surface, but that would be like saying all the Circles had been the same. There's a common set of rules, surely, but some are stricter than others. Like the circles each clan is unique in its history, its circumstances, its people. A clan with little magic in their bloodline, who had to bring in apprentices from another clan, might not want to part with a mage born to the clan unless they have to. One that had trouble with Templars in the past might want to present less of a target to them. So, even if all the clans were to strictly adhere to the rule of three – and I'm not sure they do – all it dictates is the number of apprentices a Keeper should have.“</p><p>„The heir and the spare.“<br/>
She scowled, slightly irritated.<br/>
„It's people we're talking about, not resources.“<br/>
Cullen's words had hit a nerve. Passing a mage child from one clan to the next – she could not shake the feeling that it was more like lending a tool than fostering a person. Because every Keeper had to be a mage, magic was essential to the Dalish and had to be evenly distributed. The clan giving up the mage was usually compensated in some way. It reminded her too much of Vir sulevanan, the way one could claim a dalish artifact in exchange for a task, because the history belonged to all the people.</p><p>„I didn't mean... it's a phrase, nothing more. You never heard of it? Among nobility it is not uncommon to keep the first two children close, groom them to inherit the title, and send any younger siblings off to the Chantry to prevent infighting.“<br/>
„I... didn't know that.“<br/>
She concentrated on the board again – or rather, pretended to, trying to escape his gaze. Not like he couldn't still see her, just because she didn't look.<br/>
She wondered for a moment, if that was how Cassandra had become a Seeker. Cullen, at least, had chosen his own path. And, as far as she knew, he wasn't nobility either.</p><p>„So, what happens to those mages who can't become First or Second to their Keeper?“<br/>
„That's just it. The rule dictates three mages per clan, not what to do with the rest of them.“<br/>
She could count the number of Dalish she'd seen among the Inquisition on one hand, herself included. All of them mages. There were Cillian and Neria, Voth, and Dalish, who had not technically joined the Inquisition, seeing as she was a member of the Bull's Chargers.</p><p>Dalish refused to even admit she was a mage. Perhaps in part because she had had to leave her clan due to being one mage to many, even if she had never said so outright. And while Cillian and Neria were from the same clan, she had left to join the Inquisition, while Cillian had left long before that. To study ancient elven magic, he'd said, and he had done that. But maybe Clan Ralaferian had been glad to see one of their mages travel on his own.<br/>
Those two  had only exchanged a few curt words with her, and she couldn't help but fear that the title of Herald isolated her from people – the Dalish most of all.</p><p>And then there was – had been – Minaeve.<br/>
„One of the mages back at Haven told me she was chucked out as a kid as soon as her magic manifested. I didn't want to believe any clan would actually do that, and I kept wondering what made them do it. Why send away one of our own, when magic is essential and bloodlines are so important? I don't know any details. What about her parents? Was the clan in trouble already? Running out of resources, and looking to rid themselves of another mouth to feed? Was it because her magic was weak, and she not fit to become Keeper?“</p><p>That wouldn't make it any better. If anything, it made it seem crueler. Careless, even.<br/>
„I heard that in the Circles some mages were made tranquil because they were deemed too weak and in greater danger of becoming an abomination.“<br/>
Many a mage had turned to demons because they'd been desperate. To cast out a child, to have it struggle on its own, facing the danger of starving or freezing to death – wasn't that pushing it towards possession? Another thought occurred to her, one she had not had before despite turning it over and over in her head.</p><p>There was no rite of Tranquility among the Dalish. Perhaps the clan would have killed her to guarantee their own safety. Eliminated the danger of possession, of having to defend against or hunt down an abomination. Maybe her parents had sent her off to protect her, told the clan she was dead, and hoped she would somehow make it.<br/>
„I just... I can't make any sense of it.“<br/>
„You could have simply asked her.“<br/>
„No!“ She was slightly taken aback by the vehemence of her own voice.</p><p>„No.“ She repeated, softening slightly. „I couldn't.“<br/>
„Are you afraid of the answer?“<br/>
„Honestly? I don't think any reason she could have given me could be worse than all the reasons I made up myself. But that's just it. Trying to find a reason, asking her to give one... that would have been like trying to justify what had happened to her. It was wrong. I'd... rather leave it at that.“<br/>
<em>It’s too late now, anyway.</em></p><p>„So, I take it your Clan handled things differently?“<br/>
„To our Keeper, it was more about helping out another clan than ridding himself of an additional apprentice. How could he, in good conscience, keep three, when others only had one, or maybe none at all? He had been in that very position himself before. So, he put off the decision until the next Arlathvhen.“<br/>
„Arlathvhen?“ Cullen repeated, the word awkward on his tongue. Yet she appreciated him making the effort instead of simply asking „The next what?“<br/>
„The clan gatherings.“</p><p>„Ah, yes. I've heard of those. About every decade or so, right? So your Keeper postponed his decision for how long?“<br/>
„About a year or so. Things were... tense, to say the least. There was no talking to my brother for days.“<br/>
„He didn't blame you, did he?“<br/>
That came a little too close to the truth for her liking.  <br/>
„For what?“ She asked, her mouth suddenly dry.</p><p>„Coming into your magic before him, despite being the same age. Being too far ahead in your studies for him to catch up and compete for your place as Second.“<br/>
She almost laughed at that.<br/>
„Like you said, you're either a mage, or you're not. I don't think anyone has any control over when their magic comes into being. That was no more my fault than his.“<br/>
Him revealing his magic to everyone else – that had been her fault as much as it had been his decision. He had not been angry at her, especially. Just... angry.</p><p>„He didn't want to compete, anyway.“<br/>
To think that he, who had not even wanted magic, had had a better grip on it than her, despite not being taught by the keeper... she had envied him his talent, worried it might go to waste. More than that, though, she had worried for his safety. Had it been so wrong to be relieved that their secret had come out? She had not even been able to control her own magic. How could he have expected her to teach him control?</p><p>She shook her head slightly, realizing that she hadn't touched a chess piece for... she was not quite sure how long... to make an actual move. She'd simply done so to keep her hands busy, yet Cullen had not called her out on it.<br/>
She wondered whether the game was fading into the background because the conversation was delving deeper into personal issues now, or if it had been of secondary importance all along.<br/>
<em>Creators, what if he's just trying to be polite?</em></p><p>Even as she made a move, Cullen only glanced down shortly, then concentrated on her instead of the board again, their game momentarily forgotten.<br/>
„So he wasn't bothered by being one mage to many? By the possibility of having to leave the clan?“<br/>
She'd never have expected him to want to discuss magic among the Dalish, yet he seemed curious. Asking questions instead of just assuming he knew all there was to know, like Vivienne had.</p><p>„Oh, we both were bothered by that. In fact, we ran away before the Arlathvhen together, to not be torn apart. We’d rather have been on our own, than separated.“<br/>
„You must have loved him very much, to have broken the rules for him.“<br/>
„With all my heart. I still do. Even now.“<br/>
„Even now?“ Cullen echoed. „What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?“<br/>
„Several things. I… I’d like to go over them in the right order if that’s alright with you.“<br/>
Cullen simply nodded.</p><p>„He couldn't be bothered with being a mage. While he could not rid himself of his magic, and would not have wanted to, either, he refused the role he was meant to play because of it. He had wanted to be a hunter, though I guess to him it was more about his need to roam than just providing game for the Clan. Being a hunter means scouting ahead of the aravels. It would have allowed him to move more freely without shirking his duties. Being a Keeper's apprentice was the farthest from what he wanted. I guess I got lucky in that regard.“</p><p>Cullen actually bent forward at that, his interest obviously piqued.<br/>
„What would you have wanted to be, had you been able to choose?“ <br/>
„Hahren.“ She answered without hesitation. <br/>
„What is a Hahren? I know the title is used in Alienages as well, but I'm not sure if it means the same to City Elves as it does among the Dalish.“<br/>
„Yes and no.“<br/>
She pondered how best to explain, seeing as she wasn't overly familiar with Alienage culture.</p><p>He leaned on his elbows, interlacing his fingers and resting his chin on top. Seeing him hanging on to her words like that made a pleasant warmth pool in her belly. It made her feel almost at home.<br/>
„Literally, the word means „elder“, and they probably use it to respectfully address their elders, as we do. The position of Hahren is not about age, though. Whoever holds it would be addressed as Hahren by anyone, be they younger or older. I guess this might be the same in an Alienage as well, though the role a Hahren fulfills there might differ. Among the Dalish they are the clan's storytellers and healers. Singing what few songs in the elven tongue survived to this day. Tending to the sick and wounded. Helping with the process of giving birth and of raising the clan's children.“</p><p>„What part of all that appealed most to you? What made you want to be Hahren?“<br/>
„I loved music. And stories. But most of all, I loved Hahren Lahnehn. I was heartbroken when I realized that I would not be able to follow in her footsteps like I wanted. It took me some time to realize that the role of Keeper and that of Hahren have a lot in common, and that's probably part of why they work closely together.“<br/>
She ticked off the similarities on her fingers:</p><p>„A Keeper has to learn, and teach, as much about ancient elven lore as possible. That's not so different from a storyteller. Learning about magic actually included some basic healing spells. But to understand how magical healing works I had to have a good grasp of the mundane way first. And instead of being responsible for the clan's children, I would one day be responsible for the clan as a whole. Me being a mage led me down a path overlapping with most of what I wanted out of my life. My brother could not even see the path he desired and the path he was destined to walk intersecting. When I tried to point out the ways they might do so, he... uhm...“<br/>
„Did not take it well?“ Cullen suggested.</p><p>„That's an understatement. I guess I would need to make use of some of Sera's more imaginative vocabulary to adequately describe the fit he threw.“<br/>
Cullen raised his hands in an almost defensive gesture, reclining in his chair.<br/>
„There's no need for that.“<br/>
„Yeah, I didn't think so either.“ She laughed, a short sound not entirely without mirth.<br/>
„The Keeper set him straight. Like I said, he used to wield guilt even better than magic.“<br/>
Her brother had not only revealed his magic for her sake, he had honed it for the very same reason, before they’d decided to run away.</p><p>„The Keeper did not want to separate me and my brother. Yet a Keeper's duty is not solely to his own clan, but to all Elvhen. There was the possibility of a Clan in need of a Second being at the Arlathvhen. It happens from time to time. A clan without both a First and Second – a clan that could have taken in both of us without breaking the rule of three – that's extremely rare. However, no clan would have taken in an apprentice who refused to fulfill his role. Once my brother realized that I would be offered up in his stead, he relented. He did not want to leave any more than he wanted to become Keeper, but he did not want to force me out. That was when the Arlathvhen was still a long way off, though, and the closer it got, the more the thought of running away appealed to us.“</p><p>„And I take it the Keeper did not want to give up his First?“<br/>
„No Keeper would. So convincing a clan to exchange their only apprentice, their First, for me and my brother... the chances for that were even worse.“<br/>
„So, the odds were against you. When did you start to make a habit of beating them?“<br/>
She glanced up sharply, unsettled now by the crooked smile she'd thought so charming before. „You're not... I appreciate the confidence, but please... tell me you're not in on that.“</p><p>„What do you mean?“ The confused look he gave her seemed too sincere to be merely an act.<br/>
She ducked her head. „It's nothing. Forget I said anything.“<br/>
Cullen didn't even say anything to that, he simply tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. Again, his look spoke louder than words.<br/>
„All right.“ She gave a frustrated huff, not knowing why she seemed to run off her mouth around him of all people. </p><p>„There's a bet. Whether I... can beat Corpyheus. Last I heard it was three to one. In his favor.“<br/>
„Well, allow me to say that you are our surest bet. Not that I'd... actually bet on you. Not that I'd bet against you! Maker forbid. I mean...“<br/>
„Thank you.“ She simply said. „I mean it.“<br/>
He shifted in his seat.<br/>
„You know... this may be the longest we've gone without discussing the Inquisition. Or related matters. To be honest, I appreciate the distraction.“</p><p>Her heart lifted at that. Their conversation had not exactly been cheerful, and yet... <br/>
„We should spend more time together.“ The words were out before she could even think. He had that effect on her more often than not.<br/>
„I would like that.“ There was a slight hitch in his words, as if he wasn't quite sure. <br/>
„Me too.“ Creators, she had already said that, hadn't she?<br/>
But the way his voice sounded, soft and low, as he pointed it out, made more than up for any embarrassment she might have felt.</p><p>They kept talking, taking a few more turns moving the pieces.<br/>
She’d just told him how – well, not exactly how, the details too painful, only that –  her brother had left the clan, because he could not stand the Keeper’s strict rules against spirits, when Cullen tipped over his king and declared the game hers.<br/>
She studied the board, lips curling up into a smile.<br/>
„Will you look at that. What were the odds?“</p><p>„Inquisitor?“ He appeared a little uneasy.<br/>
„You let me win, didn't you?“ No way she had managed that on her own on the first try, not when his mere presence made it hard to concentrate.<br/>
He actually managed to keep a straight face.<br/>
„Now, why would I do that?“<br/>
„Oh, I don't know.“ She shrugged her shoulders, rising from her chair.<br/>
„So your superior strategy doesn't scare me off from trying again? You've beaten both Leliana and Dorian. I know I can't be much of a challenge in this matter. Yet.“</p><p>She picked up the piece he had used to doom himself and seal her victory. „If you give me a chance to catch up, learn from my mistakes instead of hiding them from me, I might grow into a player to give you pause. Wouldn't that make the game more interesting to you?“ She tossed the carved figurine at him, and he caught it deftly. „Think about it.“<br/>
„I will“, he promised. „Though this game held my interest just fine.“<br/>
Her heart fluttered in her chest like a fledgling bird, still unsure whether or not to take flight for the first time in its life.<br/>
„Well then. I look forward to the next.“</p><p>„Inquisitor!“<br/>
He called after her, and she turned to look back over her shoulder.<br/>
„It might sound frivolous to suggest, but… you have the whole Inquisition at your command. You could have our scouts on the look out for your brother. Unless… you already know, where he is, now.“<br/>
Her heart sank.</p><p>She did not want their conversation to end on a sour note, but this truth bore the coppery tang of blood and the salt of tears.<br/>
„I… know exactly where he is, right now. And there is no way I can reach him.“<br/>
Bearing Dirthamen’s markings seemed to make mockery of her need to be reunited with Ivun. But she could not do like the god had done and follow the beloved sibling into the Beyond.<br/>
„The Inquisition can’t change that. In fact… the Inquisition put him there, if only indirectly.“<br/>
„You mean, he’s one of our agents, out on a mission?“ Cullen rose from his seat.</p><p>„Is he in trouble? You should have said so.“<br/>
„No, Commander. He is past saving.“<br/>
She looked over to the flowerbed she had planted after coming to Skyhold. Even though she’d used flowers instead of tree saplings, and only buried scraps of parchment with names on it instead of bodies between the roots.<br/>
In an instant, Cole was back by her side, his fingers brushing against hers.<br/>
„It’s alright.“ She whispered. „I’ll be alright. He can’t know, he doesn’t mean to hurt me.“</p><p>Cullen looked bewildered and saddened, noticing how Cole shadowed her. He could not have understood her words, but the presence of the compassion spirit gave him a pretty good idea of her emotional turmoil.<br/>
„Isn’t there anything we can do? Anything I can do?“ He asked.<br/>
„You already did. You gave me closure. He was one of the tranquil, at Haven.“</p><p>Cullen gaped at her, horrified, and she hated to pile even more on top of that, but he had asked, and he deserved the truth.<br/>
„Remember when I asked you for a list of casualties after the attack? He was on it.“<br/>
„Your brother was made tranquil, ended up at Haven and died there?“ He repeated.<br/>
„And you never mentioned any of that?“</p><p>„You could not have known. We don’t look much alike, his hair and skin much lighter than mine. He had no vallaslin, only the tranquil brand. He’d even changed his name, if only a little, so you might not have made the connection from Ivun to…“<br/>
„Vun.“ He breathed, apparently having gone over the list in his head. „That means sun, you told me yourself. I always thought it was… well… a tranquil’s attempt at sarcasm, considering…“</p><p><em>The sunburst brand.</em><br/>
It might have been, at that. It was also his way of saying that he was no longer complete, no longer himself. The I was missing. He’d always had a way with words, her brother. Otherwise, he would not have been able to devastate her so completely with his parting words, back when he’d left the clan.</p><p>„I…“<br/>
Cullen hedged.<br/>
„I saw him, you know. During the battle. Only in passing, but I’d wondered where a tranquil had learned to shoot a bow like that. It makes sense, now. I should have seen…“<br/>
„You could not have known.“ She reiterated.</p><p>„Both Ivun and I chose a path that led us to the Inquisition. We may not have intended it that way, but that’s what happened. We all have to live by our choices.“<br/>
<em>And die by them.</em><br/>
„Thank you, Cullen. Even if… even with the way or conversation ended, I value the time we spent together today.“<br/>
With that, she turned, and let Cole lead her away to her quarters, where she could cry in peace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Chess<br/>Childhood<br/>Conversation</p><p>the rule of three (no more than three mages per clan) did not make much sense to me.<br/>My take on the whole matter is, that it started out as "each clan should have (at least) three mages": the Keeper, the  First, and the Second.<br/>And that it might not be strictly enforced, but paraded in front of outsiders, to make dalish clans less a target for templars. If the templars assume, there are only three mages in a clan, that is one thing. If they have no idea how many there might be, that would be quite another.<br/>So yeah, Nydhalan is unsure, how much of that rule is true, and how much is only show, and how much she can actually tell Cullen without betraying the Dalish, but the need to talk about it is so strong, that Cole picked up on it despite the Anchor.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. C 2/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I figure, with Cole around, it is inevitable he'd tell Cullen of Lavellan's feelings, and vice versa.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Calm. Control. Composure. It's what her Keeper told her. Calm. Control. Composure. Like spokes in a wheel, spinning in her head, over and over. Calm. Control. Composure. You took that away.“<br/>„Are you saying I make her nervous? Or that I stop her from thinking?“</p><p>„You took the spokes, turned the wheel into an endless circle of Cullen, Cullen, Cullen. Plea, praise, prayer.“<br/>He could almost hear those, the way Cole emphasized his name: „Cullen, Cullen, Cullen.“<br/>The voice was wrong, of course. Pitched higher than usual, but still wrong. The raw emotion behind it though…</p><p>„It's what her body, her heart, her soul, tell her. Cullen, Cullen, Cullen.“<br/>Cole's voice grew breathless as he reiterated his name, trailing off to a whisper, and he filled his lungs with a shuddering sigh.<br/>„She doesn't know how to handle it. Whether to roll with it or stop. Give in or give up.“</p><p>
  <em>Neither do I.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Calm<br/>Control<br/>Composure</p><p>Those three words are basically Belavahni's mantra when a situation stresses her out. Like getting captured and interrogated by Chantry folk, for instance.</p><p>So, Cole tells Cullen how Lavellan feels about him before she has the guts to do it herself.<br/>And he tells Lavellan what Cullen feels/thinks about her, too.<br/>I think he might nudge the two of them together, because he feels that their talks do both of them good. They have hangups however, that it takes them a while to get together, even with Cole playing matchmaker. Did I mention I enjoy and write slow-burn?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. C 3a/3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Belavahni finally decides to tell Cullen how she feels, she wants to do it right. Includes some headcanon for dalish customs and the Cullen Romance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She’d put this off for the longest time.<br/>For someone who always analyzed and categorized and shelved her feelings, to remain aware and in control of them, she was capable of a surprising amount of denial.<br/>She had not actually believed herself capable of falling for a shemlen, so that had started her down a path of rationalizing, that seemed utterly ridiculous in retrospect.</p><p><em>Maybe it is nothing</em>, she’d told herself, back when Envy had done his utmost to drag feelings to the surface, she herself had not even been aware of.<br/>Of course, Cullen was important to her. For support, for advice, for the role he played within the Inquisition.<br/>But that was just friendship, right? Until it wasn’t.</p><p><em>Maybe it will pass</em>, had been her next tier of defense.<br/>This was just a crush, right? Some butterflies, that would flutter by. With the close bonds to her clanmates missing, without all the physical affection she’d grown used to, of course she’d latched on to the kind voice and almost accidental touches of the Commander.<br/>She’d just have to wait, and it would go away on its own. Only it hadn’t.</p><p>Not even when she’d grown closer with Cole and could no longer use her need for physical contact as an excuse.<br/>She’d tried to talk herself out of it then but started to wonder whether it would be that bad, to love a human.<br/>Love on its own was a good thing, right?</p><p>Only Cullen’s love could cost her that of her clan, and she had not been sure whether she’d be willing to risk that.<br/>She’d written a letter to Deshanna, asking what choosing a human as a bond-mate would mean for her place among the clan, thinking the answer might help her decide.<br/>She’d released Elion from his promise to her in the first letter she’d sent from Haven, many months before, but still wondered what he would feel regarding that kind of news. Cole had not told her. </p><p><em>Maybe he doesn’t feel the same.</em> She’d agitated, and told Cole that she did not want to hear it from him – it would have to come from Cullen. After all, she herself was well aware of her feelings, and had not acted on them, either. Intent was the key, here, and neither of them, it appeared, intended... anything.<br/>She’d been the first to say it, however, had slipped after Adamant and called him vhenan instead of vheraan. Not lion, but love. She’d realized at once her tongue had betrayed her true feelings – to herself, at least, if not to him.</p><p>The letter from Deshanna she got right after, when a messenger burst in interrupting their conversation, did not concern Cullen, however, but spoke of danger for the clan. Next to the possibility that her heart might be crushed by some human nobles wiping her whole clan from existence, the far less likely scenario of having it broken by a single human had paled in comparison. But still…</p><p><em>Maybe this is a bad idea.</em> She’d thought, even as she’d considered, planned, and crafted a courtship gift.<br/>Her dalish, him human. <br/>Her a mage, him an ex-templar. <br/>She the leader of the Inquisition, and him under her command. <br/>His surprise and dismay when he’d discovered how young she truly was. </p><p>She could think of more than enough reasons why and where this could go wrong, but one of her worries was put to rest by Deshanna. <br/>Next to the immense relief that her Clan was safe from Duke Antoine’s machinations, that she’d always be welcome – even if bonding a human would cost her place not just as First, but as a member of the clan – seemed such a little thing, when before it had seemed of such import.</p><p><em>Maybe it won't work.</em> She’d worried. The cultural differences might be to great, no matter their feelings for each other. She’d realized, however, that her crafting the amulet had only in part been another stalling tactic – the drawings, the research and the assembly of the various parts had given her time to mull things over, but the purpose had been clear.<br/>It was her attempt at finding out if this could work. </p><p>She’d thought a lot about all the symbolism she’d put into the design, and she thought she finally had the right words to woo the Commander.<br/>Only all of them had fled her head when finally asking him to join her on a walk across the battlements. Unfortunately, Cullen had that effect on her, that turned her legs to jelly and her brain to mush. She was stupidly, head over heels in love with this man, and unless Cole had told him, he did not have the slightest idea.</p><p>So, here they were, both stumbling and stuttering through the conversation like a couple of teenagers. Well, she was a teenager, true, would be for another year or so, but an adult, nonetheless. She’d earned her vallaslin before setting out for the Conclave, after all.<br/>And the Commander, even though in his early thirties, was just as bashful at the prospect of sorting out their feelings for each other as she was.</p><p>„What’s stopping you?“ She inquired. „If I know Cole, he’s probably blurted out my feelings for you on at least half a dozen occasions. My doubts, too, but… I’ve made up my mind. What about you?“<br/>„You’re the Inquisitor.“ Cullen told her, and she sincerely hoped that this had only given him pause and did not entirely disqualify a relationship in his opinion.<br/>„We’re at war. And you… I didn’t think it was possible.“</p><p>„Impossible?“ Belavahni asked, the corner of her mouth rising in a crooked smile. „No. Improbable, maybe. But haven’t you yourself said that I’m rather good at beating the odds?“<br/>„So you are…“ Cullen edged closer, his head tilting, as if in consideration – or… preparation?<br/>She could almost taste the kiss his voice, his expression, his body language promised.<br/>„It seems too much to ask. But I want to…“</p><p>He leaned in even closer, eyes closing, lips parting, and her head was swimming from having him so near, so much so that she’d entirely forgotten by now that she’d wanted to ask him to think this through before they progressed to anything physical.<br/>She was saved by an unlucky messenger, babbling about a report Cullen had apparently wanted, but obviously did not want right now. </p><p>He wanted her.<br/>Her heart was still hammering from the truth, the reality of that, even after all that Cole had told her.<br/>Cullen wanted her, had been about to kiss her, and he did not like that they’d been interrupted. One glare from him was enough to have the messenger retreating.<br/>Belavahni took a deep breath, trying to think through the haze of happiness that had settled over her.<br/>„I want…“</p><p>Before she could properly form the sentence with either her mind or tongue, both were occupied with something much more enjoyable.<br/>Cullen had latched onto her, his mouth covering hers, his hands on her neck and cheek.<br/>She could not help the noise escaping her throat, part surprise, part desire, part bliss, that allowed his tongue to enter and brush against hers.<br/>The kiss was a bit clumsy, overeager, and unaccounted for, yet all she could have wished, and over way too soon.</p><p>„I’m sorry.“ He told her right afterward. „That was… uhm… really nice.“<br/><em>Understatement, thy name is Cullen.</em><br/>She sighed, completely smitten.<br/><em>How have you done this to me, you darned, dear, adorable man.</em><br/>„Don’t be. There’s no need.“ She reassured him.<br/>Then something dawned on her, a possibility she had not considered, that pulled her right down from her cloud to solid ground. And might have her sink right into it if it turned out to be true.</p><p>„Unless…“ She swallowed, wetting her lips. „You don’t regret it, do you?“<br/>„No!“ His answer came as fast as an arcane bolt fired from a staff. His expression and voice softened. „No. Not at all.“<br/>Yet when he leaned in again, she raised her hand and put her fingers on his mouth, bidding him hold, before he could kiss her completely senseless.<br/>She had to ask!</p><p>„That I’m Dalish never bothered you?“ <br/>He sounded taken aback by the sudden turn in the conversation.<br/>„I hadn’t considered… Elves weren’t treated differently in the Circles I served.“<br/>It was an odd thought, that within the Circles elves might have been on equal footing with humans, and still no better off than outside. While Elves had few rights under human rule, mages under Chantry rule had even fewer.<br/>„None of them were Dalish, though, were they?“ She pressed. This wasn’t just about race, but religion.</p><p>„I didn’t think what it might mean to you… I hope that doesn’t… I mean… does it bother you?“ He sounded so unsure, and she somewhat hated herself for doing that to him. But she felt she had to, for both their sakes.<br/>„I don’t know. Maybe. That depends on how we handle this. You already know more about my heritage than most humans, simply by asking questions and listening.“<br/>It was part of why she had fallen in love with him, his honest interest in dalish culture, instead of the disdain she was often met with.</p><p>„When I accused you of being biased against my culture and my people, you didn’t simply apologize. You made an effort to find out and memorize how to say sorry in elvhen. And then you kept at it, learning simple, everyday phrases to give me the comfort of hearing my own language.“ <br/>That had been another part, the kindness and consideration he showed her through small gestures like these.<br/>„So, you thought about it at least to some degree, even if you haven’t thought it through. I’d like you to do that.“<br/>She smiled, caressing his cheek, feeling she’d finally earned herself the privilege to do so.</p><p>„Please, Cullen. Do that for me, for us. Consider what it means. Not just for me. For you as well. For the both of us, together. I want to know you, Cullen. And I want you to know me. I… I want you to have this.“<br/>She drew out the amulet she had so painstakingly crafted and held it out to him, dangling from a sturdy cord of braided leather, black interlaced with dark red, to fit his fur mantle.<br/>He reached for it, but did not quite take it, his hand hovering just beneath.</p><p>For some reason, it would have felt wrong to just drop it into his hand. That would be akin to throwing herself at him. No, she needed him to be aware of it, of the connotations, so he could decide whether he truly wanted it – wanted her – or not.<br/>„Is that Ironbark? It’s rare, and I heard only the Dalish know how to properly work it.“<br/>„It is.“<br/>„I’m honored, but I can't accept something so precious. The thought of you giving it away when so much of your culture is lost to you already…“</p><p>Her smile broadened.<br/>„See? You are thinking about it. Before you decide whether to keep it or not, however, hear me out. It’s not just dalish. It’s a courting gift.“<br/>„Oh.“ This came as a surprise to him, apparently, but at least it was the good kind, if his tone was anything to go by.<br/>She had not expected him to want something purely physical, but she had to make sure.<br/>„Uhm… was… was the kiss… I hope I did not overstep.“</p><p>„It’s fine, Cullen. I just… if we want to ever progress past that kiss, I need to do this properly.“<br/>„Courting.“ He repeated.<br/>„Yes.“ She blushed.<br/>„Are there… any rules I should be aware of?“<br/>„It is frowned upon to mate unless you are already bonded.“<br/>Cullen’s cheeks turned a decidedly rosy colour at that statement.</p><p>„And… the amulet would do that? Bond us?“ He guessed.<br/>„Creators, no. The amulet is a start. A promise if you like, to become a couple and see how things develop. That’s why I need you to think before accepting, though. I don’t want any cultural differences to get in the way, later. Better to have them out in the open, now, and let you decide based upon that. I’m not saying things will be easy. But I believe that they could be good. And I’m willing to take that chance if you are.“</p><p>„Shouldn’t I get you something in return, though?“ He asked.<br/>„So the promise is not one-sided?“<br/>„Is that how humans do it?“ She asked back. „I wouldn’t know. I’m doing this the dalish way, because it is the only one I know. Dalish courtship is at least in part about survival, about making the most of your abilities. A hunter would bring down some beast, and I could have used my magic to do that. But I wanted it to be a part of the gift itself, not just the means to acquiring it. Most enchantments contain lyrium, so I settled for fade-touched materials and a charm instead.“</p><p>Cullen looked impressed, apparently considering not only the sentimental value, but the actual one as well.<br/>„You put a lot of effort into that, then. Unless you requisitioned it, but you said that this was about your abilities, and knowing you, you would not take a short-cut.“<br/>„I did.“ She agreed. „Not the short-cut, I mean, the effort. In fact, I… might have opened a partially collapsed rift before permanently sealing it, to get the iron-bark to imbibe the Fade.“<br/>He half laughed, his voice wavering somewhere between amusement and reprimand.</p><p>„You didn’t.“<br/>„Like you said, Iron Bark is rare. I could not find any that was already Fade touched, and I was not going to do this by half measures. It’s rather important, you know.“<br/>„I’ve gathered as much. I definitely need to get you something in return.“<br/>„This will do just fine.“ She declared, covering the lucky coin she wore around her neck with her free hand. „It meant so much to you, that giving it away counts as a big gesture in my book. Even if the intent was not a romantic one.“</p><p>She’d asked Dagna to forge a setting for it, so she could turn it into a pendant without damaging the coin – simply drilling a hole into it had been out of the question!<br/>Belavahni had wanted to honour Cullen’s gift, and carry it close. Safe and secure.<br/>But at the same time, it would have felt weird to wear a necklace presenting the face of Andraste for all to see. As if she’d finally accepted that she was the Herald of Andraste, as she’d been called ever since Haven.<br/>So, she’d finally dug the necklace from her pack, that had been paid for by her uncle and fashioned by master Eilah to celebrate her coming-of-age and being newly marked for Dirthamen.</p><p>It was a beautiful collier of beads fashioned from various materials – carved wood and bone, and painted ceramics – interspersed with irregularly shaped splinters of amber, coral, mother of pearl, and all sorts of minerals.<br/>When she’d needed strength and a reminder of home, she’d taken the package out, unwrapped it and gone over them: quartz for clarity, opal for potential, turquoise for protection, azurite for insight, jade for health, obsidian for truth, jasper for harmony, tiger’s eye for bravery. </p><p>The most important part, to her, however, had been the two bear claws, positioned so they would come to rest on her clavicles, framing the jugular notch. Those claws Eilah had saved for her ever since the day Naema, her mother, had brought down a bear on her own to earn her vallaslin before giving birth. The connotation to Dirthamen, her chosen god, the bear an animal sacred to him, was a lucky coincidence.</p><p>The necklace had seemed far too ornate, far too precious to wear it, before, and, if she was completely honest to herself, too dalish.<br/>But it had seemed just right to balance out the Andrastian connotations while presenting a worthy frame for Cullen’s coin.<br/>The look when he’d first seen the necklace on her had been one thing, curious and admiring. But the shift in his expression when he’d seen the coin added in between the beads, resting between the bear claws… that was a memory she carried with her to warm her on lonely nights.</p><p>„Would you believe me, if I told you that it was, even if I never said it out loud?“ Cullen asked, softly, taking her breath away once more.<br/>„That I gave you my lucky coin because I wanted… needed… you to have it. To have all the luck you could possibly have. So you would return to me. Even if you were not mine. Even when I believed you never could be.“<br/>The butterflies paid another visit to her stomach, flapping up a storm.</p><p>„Why wouldn’t I believe you? Your sincerity is one of the things I admire about you, Cullen.“<br/>He smiled, the scar above his lip slightly stretching with the motion. <br/><em>Creators, that smile will be the death of me. I could drown in that. Or his voice.</em><br/>She paid way too much attention to the little details of his face, taking memories of the different expressions he’d shown her so far.<br/>If she did not take care, she’d get distracted all over again, and never get to the point.<br/>„This“ Belavahni began, pointing at the small glass disk, glinting from behind the carved tree branches of the amulet she’d crafted, like a rising sun.</p><p>Only to get interrupted by Cullen.<br/>„It glows.“ He observed. „Is that what I think it is?“<br/>„Depends on what you are thinking.“ She jested.<br/>„Did you make a phylactery?“ He guessed. „I thought you disagree with the practice.“<br/><em>By June, I hope I did not mess that up.</em> She thought.<br/>Not the spell itself, but including it in the design, of course. She’d done enough research, and even two test runs, to ensure the enchantment was valid.</p><p>„Well, technically I did, but… I didn’t want it to look or work like a real phylactery, even if that’s where I got the idea. I thought one of those might bother you, after you said… so I made some changes to the shape and the spell. And I’d count on you to keep it safe, of course, so it can’t be used against me. Wasn’t sure if that was just rumour, or for real. It’s still alight as long as I’m alive, but the intensity doesn’t change dependent on my location.“</p><p>She’d tested both attributes – the glow remaining steady, no matter the distance, and the glow fading away upon death – by using the blood of birds to craft prototypes. A messenger raven for the distance, a chicken destined to end up on the dinner table for the death.<br/>The spell worked as intended, she just prayed that her gesture would, as well.<br/>„I just didn’t want you to worry about me while I’m away.“</p><p>Cullen looked at her with a mixture of awe and bewilderment.<br/>„You did all of this, made this, for me?“<br/>„I do know the principles. And figured them out where I didn’t.“<br/>He still looked at her like he couldn't believe it, and she amended:<br/>„My craftsmanship would not suffice for something big or complicated, like weapons or armour, but this is...“</p><p>She trailed off as she realized that he was not doubting her ability but her intent.<br/>She had barely registered the split-second pause before he'd said: „for me“.<br/>And it only now sunk in.<br/>She cleared her throat, slightly anxious.<br/>„It's yours if you want it. You don’t have to decide right away.“<br/>At that, Cullen finally took the amulet, as if to say he did want it.</p><p>She hastily added:<br/>„Just think of any questions you might have about dalish culture, about any concerns you might have, and I’ll gladly answer them. If there is something about me that you’d be unable to stomach, I’d rather we find out now than somewhere down the road. Save us the heartache, right?“<br/>He gave her an odd look, and she added, awkwardly: „Well… more heartache, at least.“</p><p>„You think there might be things I’d disapprove of strongly enough to turn me away from you?“ He asked, suddenly serious, the softness in his eyes contrasted by the weight of his voice.<br/>„I don’t know. That’s the whole point. I don’t know enough about the Chantry, and its teachings, and the importance you put on those teachings, to know. That’s why I’m asking you to ask questions. Take your time. Think things through. You know where to find me when you’re ready.“</p><p>She stood on her tiptoes to briefly touch her lips to his, only a chaste afterthought to the kiss they’d shared before. Not knowing what he might come up with, and if they’d even manage to progress past this point, she could not abide a kiss that would leave her weak-kneed and wanting more.<br/>But after dropping all that on him, she had not wanted to leave without at least a small gesture of affection, either.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Courtship<br/>Collier<br/>Coin</p><p>I know that in-game, Cullen only gives the coin to an already romanced Inquisitor, which means after their first kiss. Since I am a sucker for slow burn, I decided to spread things out a little. Her calling him vhenan without him realizing what it means. Him offering the coin to her, without her realizing what that means. Etc.<br/>The way Cole keeps broadcasting everyones feelings, neither Cullen nor Belavahni put too much stock in unspoken feelings, I'd guess, since they know their own and do not intend to act on them for the longest time. So even if the other feels the same, it means little if they don't act on it, either.<br/>That's my rationale, at least.</p><p>I lean on in-game dialogue where I feel I have to, but tend to tweak and expand it.<br/>I have another chapter planned from Cullen's point of view, to acompany this one and deal with Cullen's questions and decision.</p><p>Edited to add:<br/>I took the elvhen word for lion from Project Elvhen.<br/>Given Cullen's lion mane mantle (and lion helmet), and the similiarty between vhenan (home/heart; expressing love) and vheraan (lion) I could not resist to have her use vheraan as a nickname for Cullen, so she could slip up later on without him noticing.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. D 1/4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Dalish value magic and deem it a blessing.<br/>The way her magic was discovered by the Keeper was less than ideal, however.<br/>And the way her brother's magic was discovered even worse.</p><p>Edit:<br/>Replaced "child" with "da'len" in her uncle's speech. Don't know how that escaped me before posting</p>
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    <p>Nydhalan had known that the Fade was different for mages.<br/>No, not known, for she had not been a mage, before. She’d heard of it, because the Dalish talked about magic openly, taught all their kids at least the basics, in case one of them should be blessed with the gift.<br/>She only found out that she herself was when she somehow stumbled out of her own dreamscape into a different area of the fade.</p><p>It was mostly unshaped, there seemed only to be ground underneath her feet because she was convinced of standing on something. But with every step she took, the mist swirling around her feet revealed only half-formed images and emptiness. She made sure to step onto those shadowy forms, that seemed to have some substance at least. Rocks. Earth. Grass. Sticks.<br/>She tried to will them into existence, and they formed a sort of path beneath her feet. That felt better. Safer, somehow, though still strange.</p><p>First, she thought that her dream had simply taken a turn for the strange and unexpected. But when she looked back in the direction she’d come from, she saw a distorted bubble, deflating behind her. Her dreamscape. It seemed that without her in it, whatever spirit had fueled her dream until now, had stopped to do so.<br/>Her surroundings were weird in an unsettling way, and she set course toward what looked a little like the area they had made camp in recently. A Fade echo, maybe?</p><p>It was not just a landscape, though. When she came closer, she found it was populated. What she had mistaken for a sort of boulder from the distance was… moving.<br/>It had crouched low on the ground, its skin a sickly grey colour, and rose at the sound of her footsteps drawing near.<br/>The thing turning toward her, a corpse in each hand, was so monstrously huge it seemed to tower over her like a tree, each leg a massive trunk that could have stomped her into the ground without even noticing.</p><p>She screamed.<br/>She must have screamed in truth, in her sleep, because next thing she knew her uncle had shook her awake. Trembling, she told him to get Hahren Lahnehn and Keeper Amelan – one for the feeling of safety, the other for his knowledge of the Fade and its creatures.<br/>When she breathlessly described to the Keeper what she had seen - „It was monstrous, and huge, bigger than a bear. Tall as a tree. With big, twisting horns, and so strong, and cruel, and…“ – he cut her off with a gesture, exchanging a worried look with the Hahren.</p><p>„Pride, it seems.“<br/>„That does not bode well.“ Lahnehn agreed.<br/>„I better start teaching her more about spirits right away, or she’d be in danger the moment she falls asleep again. She can catch up on sleep tomorrow. This cannot wait.“<br/>Amelan, true to his word, began drilling her in the importance of keeping away from spirits.<br/>The idea of possession scared her so much, that she had trouble falling asleep again even when he’d finally allow her.</p><p>Even though the Keeper had told her she could resist spirits, with a strong mind and a good grip on her emotions, she could not help but worry.<br/>That monstrous being she’d encountered had seemed a force of nature, like a storm or a fire. Things that would tear or burn you, no matter how strong you deemed yourself to be, how sure of heart, how calm of mind.<br/>How was she supposed to stop it from simply taking her, when it could pick her up like a toy?<br/>She was afraid it would take over, the moment she fell back asleep.</p><p>So, she’d snuck to the edge of camp and huddled against the statue of Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. He was said to keep away evil spirits.<br/>With the roughhewn stone an irrefutable presence at her side, she could finally calm down enough to think.<br/>The Keeper had told her not to trust spirits, none of them. But what she knew about the Dread Wolf kept her wondering. Why specify that he kept away evil spirits?</p><p>If all spirits were evil, why not just say he keeps away spirits? The way it was put, with only some spirits called evil, didn’t that imply that there had to be good ones, as well? Or neutral ones, at least?<br/>She silently prayed she’d only encounter those, not the dangerous kind. Her belief in Fen’Harel was her shield, fending off not just the evil spirits, but the fear of them.<br/>Snuggled against the stone, she’d finally fallen asleep.<br/>She’d woken halfway through the night, when her uncle picked her up to carry her back to the supposed safety of camp.</p><p>„No!“ She’d protested, arms reaching longingly toward the lonely statue, abandoned against her will. She had not wailed and flailed in terror, like she wanted to.<br/>Calm. Control. Composure.<br/>It had been so hard, but somehow, she’d done it. „No, please!“<br/>„Hush, Idrilla.“ He’d admonished, naming her a little rebel, probably because of the shared root „harel“ in that name, and that of the Dread Wolf. „Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.“<br/>How could he, though, when he was not even a mage? He could only watch her body, not her mind.</p><p>When she asked the Keeper about her conclusions the next day, though, he insisted that all spirits were dangerous. The evil spirits, the ones the Chantry called demons, he likened to the predators of the spirit world. Beings that hunted, and fed on, others.<br/>But just because an animal was not a predator, it could still be dangerous.<br/>A boar’s tusks or a halla’s hooves and horns could kill you as easily as fang and claw.<br/>All spirits were dangerous.</p><p>What followed next turned into a sort of tug-of-war between her and her uncle. Her trying to leave camp, and him trying to keep her there.<br/>First, she’d simply wanted to go and visit the statue once the day’s duties were done, but he would not have that.<br/>So, she kept lying wide awake while he guarded her. Only when the faint glimmer from the campfire reflected in his eyes went away, as they drifted shut and his breathing evened out, she extricated herself from her brothers embrace as carefully as if she feared waking a sleeping bear.</p><p>Then she tiptoed away, returning to the statue at the edge of camp, only finding peace of mind, and sleep, in the embrace of the wolf’s front paws.<br/>„This has gone on long enough.“ Her uncle declared, finding she’d once again stolen away from her and Ivun’s sleeping furs to huddle against the stone with no more than a blanket wrapped around her for warmth. No furs, no fire, and most importantly no Ivun, giving off heat next to her as if he truly carried a piece of the sun within him.</p><p>„The weather’s been fine so far, but it won’t hold forever. The nights are getting colder. You can’t sit with just a stone for shelter through the rain and snow, even if it is shaped in the image of a god.“<br/>„We could make a fire. Build a shelter.“ She argued.<br/>„Your own little camp apart from camp, you mean? The others are talking already.“<br/>„Let them.“ Her voice was so small. She felt small, and stupid, and vulnerable.<br/>She swallowed, unable to stand up for herself as if that did not bother her, but even less able to leave the safety she’d found here.</p><p>„No. This has to end, Idrilla.“<br/>Again, that new name, that called her a rebel, but this time more exasperated than fond. Her uncle frowned down at her, his face illuminated just enough by the full moon to show the full scope of his disappointment.<br/>„He keeps me safe.“ She insisted, stubborn, her little arms slung around the statue’s neck.<br/>If it had not been too undignified, dishonouring the god, she might have climbed onto its back and clung on with her feet, too, to make it harder for her uncle to pry her lose.<br/>For now, though, he did not use his hands, merely words.</p><p>„Dreadwolf’s teeth!“ He cursed.<br/>„Of all the ways you could have taken after Naema, you had to inherit her stubborn streak?“<br/>Nydhalan had always felt that she might not be as strong of will as her mother, who, from the tales she’d heard, had been brave, and decisive, if sometimes rash.<br/>With the way her uncle agitated over it, she did not take this as a compliment, however.<br/>„I’m sorry. But I have to stay.“</p><p>„I know. I know you think that. I know why you come here. Fen’Harel keeps away evil spirits, and you feel safer under his watch than mine. But this is just a stone. A symbol. The favour of the gods is with the faithful. You need not cling to their image, just carry them in your heart.“<br/>She’d shaken her head again, still refusing to leave. The gods were gone, but they had to be strongest where they were worshipped, right? She'd tried to explain, but either she'd done too bad a job, or he had simply not listened well enough. Did it matter, which?</p><p>„Well, it was worth a try.“ He’d sighed and reached into his pocket.<br/>„Never thought I could not muster enough of an argument to convince a five-year-old. She’d be laughing herself sick if she could see me now. You have me resorting to bribery, da'len.“ He muttered, holding his fist out toward her to draw her attention.<br/>If he thought he could draw her away with some trinket, he was sorely mistaken. What good would a new toy or adornment be, if it could not put her mind at ease?</p><p>„Should have thought of this way sooner. If you need a stone wolf to keep you safe, maybe a bone one would do as well?“<br/>His fingers opened, then, and he presented a little figurine on his palm, carved exactly like the statue she leaned against, only so much smaller it seemed almost lost on the stretch of pale skin it rested upon.<br/>That caught her interest, and for the first time since settling between the Dread Wolf’s paws this night, she shifted slightly away from the stone at her back.</p><p>„For me?“ She asked, reaching out for the figurine, but not quite daring to touch it, her fingers falling a little short, coming to rest on her uncle’s palm.<br/>„Who else? I asked master Eilah to whittle it, special for you. A miniature Dread Wolf. Will that do, Idrilla?“<br/>„My very own Fen’Harel.“ She whispered and picked it up.<br/>It was so small, it fit even into her own, tiny hand as she made a fist around it.</p><p>„Just hold onto it, while you sleep, and hold it so it faces away from the center of camp. For all that he keeps away evil spirits, we don’t want to invite the Dread Wolf into our midst. That’s why he guards the perimeter, and always faces outward, remember? Now, wouldn’t you rather sleep next to your brother than a boulder, no matter which god it represents?“<br/>She’d nodded, eagerly, and let him carry her back to camp and tuck her in next to Ivun.<br/>„You’re not angry with me anymore?“ The new name was unsettling.</p><p>„I was never angry with you, Nydha.“ He told her, returning to the shortened form of her true name. „I was worried. And even if I were, I could not stay angry with either you, or your brother, for long. Remember how much I love you?“<br/>„Like night and day.“ She whispered.<br/>„Like moon and sun.“ He whispered back, touching first her head, then her brothers, who shifted in his sleep.</p><p>„Nydhalan and Ivun. You two are the light of my life. Brighter than all the stars put together.“<br/>When he bent down to kiss each of them on the forehead, she surged upright, slinging her thin arms around his neck, like she’d done with the statue before. She held on tight, kissing his cheek, not having the words to properly thank him.<br/>They sat like that for a while, before she relented, releasing him and returning to sleep.</p><p>It took a couple more years, and the beginning of another Blight, for her to figure out the truth. That the monster she had seen, tall and horned as it had been, was not a Pride demon, whose attention she had drawn. But merely a Fade echo of the previous Blight, which had ravaged the part of the Free Marches they had camped in at the time she came into her powers.<br/>The supposed Pride demon she had seen had been shaped after an Ogre, and her Keeper’s worry had been unfounded.</p><p>By then, his distrust of spirits was deeply ingrained in her, however.<br/>She was never quite sure, if it truly had been the Dread Wolf keeping the spirits at bay in those early days, or simply her unshakable belief that she would be safe.<br/>With the added worry of her brother coming into his powers, too, her own walls, keeping her safe until then, began to crack and crumble. It was not just that he was a mage, it was that no one but the two of them knew. She’d kept his powers secret at his request, trying to teach him what the Keeper had taught her.</p><p>She did her best but could not shake the fear that her actions might bring harm to her brother, or the rest of the clan.<br/>The stress of sneaking around behind the Keeper’s back put a terrible strain on her.<br/>Nydhalan was plagued by nightmares to the point of losing control of her magic.<br/>That night, some malevolent spirits had taunted her with the secret:<br/>„Poor, precious child. You know you can't keep him safe. You can hide it from your Keeper, but not from us. We know he is like you. Well... not exactly like you. He's far more trusting of our kind than you are.“</p><p>„LEAVE HIM ALONE!“<br/>She’d been so angry, so scared, that her magic manifested in her sleep.<br/>She woke screaming, shooting flames from her hands, setting several things on fire - a nearby aravel, their sleeping furs, and worst of all her own hair – and screaming some more.<br/>Her screams had woken not only Ivun, but half the camp. Before her uncle could smother the flames wreathing her head, Ivun had doused her with ice, revealing his magic for all to see.</p><p>Once she’d been tended to, the side of her head where the fire had licked at her scalp shaven and a poultice applied, she’d settled down enough to think things over.<br/>Ivun had put more importance on her safety, than his secret. And at first, she could not help but be relieved all was out in the open – if she could not control her own magic, how was she supposed to teach her brother control? The spirits were right, she could not keep him safe.</p><p>Then she realized that the following year, during the Arlathvhen, one of them might be called upon to leave the clan, and that was a new kind of worry, wholly unrelated to spirits. The idea of being separated from her twin – not just during the nights, as she’d been when sneaking off to the statue of Fen’Harel, but forever…<br/>That thought scared her. More than any demon ever could.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Demons<br/>Darkspawn<br/>Dread Wolf</p><p>I figured Belavahni would have had a little token that helped her with her fear of spirits when she was small.<br/>Keeper Amelan might have overdone it a little, so even when Deshanna tried to undo some of the damage his strict rules inflicted after his death, it will take Belavahni a long time to accept Cole wants to actually help her when she is at Haven.<br/>And the control issues instilled in her will come into play in her romantic relationship with Cullen later, too.</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. D 2/4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Belavahni does not want to repeat her mother's mistake. Things get sort of steamy nonetheless.<br/>If you've read chapter 2 from "Counting Birds Against The Sun", you might recall Elion from her interaction with Cole, even if he was not named, only referred to as "the craftmaster's apprentice" - this is the reason why.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Belavahni sat watching the campfire, listening to one of Lahnehn’s many stories, but more to the cadence than the actual words. She sat between Elion’s outstretched legs, her back flush against his chest, his arms encircling her. His right hand rested on her left arm, the thumb brushing her skin, up and down, in a lazy, languid motion.</p><p>She was at least a year or so shy of her vallaslin, and he already marked for Sylaise. She thought that any girl would be lucky to have him; with a lithe figure and a nice face, a good, honest heart, and a voice that could have rivalled the birds in the tress once he started to sing. He could have chosen anyone and would most likely have not been refused. But for some miracle, it was her he wanted.</p><p>The Hahren watched their blossoming romance with favour but watch she did. Noone wanted a repeat of Naema’s blunder, even if it had meant two more mages for the clan, herself and her twin brother. Some of the others wondered what she saw in the quiet craft master’s apprentice. Her nickname, Belavahni, meant one with many questions. Would she not have preferred someone she could discuss all those topics with, that she wondered about?</p><p>Elion did not talk much, and he was certainly not the philosophic type. Down to earth, reliable, hardworking. Kind, too, and patient. And handsome, with his mop of dark curls and amber eyes. There was a lot to love about him. But words were not his forte. What they did not understand was that he did not need words to speak to her. He had trouble finding those, true. But the way he played his music… he could convey so much emotion through that.</p><p>„Do you ever want to run?“ she had asked him once, „Not run away, I mean. Not to get anywhere. Just… run. See how fast you can go. Feel the wind in your hair, on your skin, see the landscape flying by in a blur.“</p><p>He had not answered, simply picked up the lute he’d been working on, and started plucking out a melody, fast paced and urgent.</p><p>She had closed her eyes, her legs growing restless, one foot tapping the rhythm out on the ground, and she could practically feel it. It was a wild dash downhill, the tall grass brushing her bare legs. Wide strides, consuming the distance in bounds and leaps. Her face had broken out into a dazzling smile, heart racing in harmony with his tune. Then the melody had softened and slowed down.</p><p>She’d come to herself, blinking, rested her chin on her knees and studied him while he played. This part of the song was different, the music portraying another kind of motion, more…</p><p>„Like this?“ she’d asked, rising to her feet. With her arms stretched wide, she’d spun in a circle, and Elion had nodded, beaming back at her.</p><p>„Yeah, I like to do that, too,“ she’d agreed, spun in another circle, laughing as he picked up the pace again.</p><p>She’d spun round and round until she grew dizzy and noticed only that he’d put down the lute and stopped playing as she lost her balance, tumbling into his arms. She’d been trembling with nerves from the sudden suspense she could feel, almost expecting sparks to fly from her fingertips. They sometimes did, when her excitement grew unbearable, the emotion expressing herself through her magic.</p><p>He’d been just as nervous as she herself had been, the calloused fingertips on her cheek vibrating against her skin as his thumb had lightly brushed her lips before their mouths met.<br/>
No, they understood each other just fine. He might not be a man of many words, but he’d made himself unmistakably clear, when, after receiving his vallaslin, he’d told her he’d wait for her.</p><p>They could not be bonded before she was an adult as well, and that might take years yet, but he had not made it a promise, simply stated it as fact: I’ll wait. Aside from a few, stolen kisses where no one could see, their contact had remained innocent. This time, however… she was not sure if he’d even noticed, but on each downward stroke, the back of his thumb just grazed the slight swell of her budding breasts.</p><p>She’d been a bit of a late bloomer. She’d already bled, but her chest had simply refused to properly fill out so far. That Lahnehn had told her, that would come at the latest with her first child, had not been much of a consolation. She’d feared that her lack of womanly attributes might be off-putting to Elion, but he’d looked past that. He saw her, moved her, like no one else did. His touch was a source of safety and comfort.</p><p>This was more than that, though. It was a barely there touch, but it repeated with every stroke, each building upon the one before. It had started out as a pleasant warmth in her belly, that had been slowly stoked to a heat bigger than that of the campfire.Reluctantly, she disentangled herself from Elion and stood on wobbly feet.</p><p>He gave her a slightly concerned look, but the frown furrowing his brow smoothed out when she gave him a smile, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward in return, almost amused. Perhaps he simply thought her legs had fallen asleep. If only it had been so simple. Belavahni walked off a little way into the woods, fanning herself and breathing deeply.</p><p>Did he even know what he was doing to her? He’d said he’d wait, but he made it damn hard for her to stay patient herself. Belavahni leaned against a tree, head thumping back against the wood in frustration. The bark felt rough against her bare arms, and she pressed them down until it hurt, tried to get her body to behave. But each muscle hummed from the sensation of his touch, sang with unfulfilled pleasure.</p><p>Was that what her mother had felt like, at the Arlathvhen? She closed her eyes, biting her lower lip. She would not make the same mistake her mother had. She would wait until she had her vallaslin. Her mind was made up. Her body disagreed.</p><p>She brushed her hands over her thighs and could feel that her palms were damp from sweat. Maybe… maybe she could… She had to wait for him, but that didn’t mean… She slid one hand between her legs, beneath the flap of fabric from the tunic, that hung loosely from her waist, slit at the hips. Touching her smallclothes, she discovered those were damp as well.</p><p>„Sweet Sylaise,“ she groaned, dragging her finger over that damp spot, revelling in the heat that washed through her body at the sensation. Something, some instinct, had her open her eyes and she was faced with Sylaise’s Vallaslin, and Elion’s face underneath, filled with longing. As always, he was not a man of many words. He closed the distance between them with a few strides, went down on his knees and buried his face in her lap.</p><p>She had to bite her tongue to keep quiet as he lapped at her entrance, driving her to distraction. Creators be good!</p><p>„Ahh!“ She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her moan, then called out his name as she felt her knees buckle. „Elion! Elion, please!“</p><p>She slid down the tree, into his arms, and he covered her face and neck in kisses, drawing her close, and onto his lap. She could feel him, every inch of him, pressed against her, and moaned once more.</p><p>„We can’t.“</p><p>„The sounds I could draw from you. Music more beautiful than that of any instrument. I could make your body sing with pleasure. You want that, don't you?“ he whispered into her ear, while the fingers of one hand traced it to the tip, the others busy between her legs, drawing out another, wanton moan. „Us, together. Me, inside you.“</p><p>It was unlike him, to be this forward, to be this… vocal. And the way he’d phrased that… Something… something was off. Not just this situation, something about him. Her realization allowed her to see through the illusion just in time, had his brown skin turn to pale lavender, his dark curls to black smoke and purple flame. Instead of the swirls of Sylaise’s markings his brow was suddenly crested with horns.</p><p>She forced herself awake, the way she had learned to do to escape demons and found herself in the arms of the real Elion. She’d fallen asleep during Lahnehn’s recitation, she realized, and everything after had been nothing but a dream, woven by a desire demon. Belavahni squirmed from the embrace, shaken. She’d always felt safe in his arms before, but now she could no longer bear his touch.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Desire<br/>Dream</p><p>Belavahni is at least 17 here, maybe closer to 18, have not exactly pinpointed it.<br/>Put the underage warning in the overview, because to the Dalish, she is not an adult before she has her vallaslin, no matter how old.<br/>And even if it only turned out to be a dream, there were a few descriptive details, so I thought it would be safer to make this chapter explicit as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. D 3/4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Belavahni had her own reasons for traveling to Haven, besides spying on the conclave</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Naema.“ Lahnehn said. „Where’s your brother?“<br/>Belavahni was not sure whether she wanted to cry, or scream, or both. Not in front of the Hahren, though, it was not Lahnehn’s fault that she kept mistaking her for her mother.<br/>She had reached the age Naema had been, when she’d died, after all. She even bore the same vallaslin her mother had, now that she’d finally earned her own.</p><p>Lahnehn had started to grow distracted and forgetful a few years back, and her condition had only deteriorated over the past month. She could no longer concentrate for more than a short span of time, asking the same questions over and over.<br/>When she looked at Belavahni now, it was not her, she saw, but a person who had died giving birth to her. It hurt to be reminded of that loss. But the other, that of Lahnehn herself – and the one she kept bringing up without knowing it – was worse, far worse.</p><p>„Naema. Where have you been, girl? Where’s your brother?“<br/>When Lahnehn asked after her brother, Belavahni knew her uncle was meant, in truth.<br/>But that did not change the fact that Ivun was gone, and that the question, harmless as it seemed, brought that thought to the forefront of her mind. She could not truly forget, only push it back a while.<br/>This hurt so much.</p><p>Not just that Lahnehn, who had practically raised her, no longer recognized her.<br/>But to have the betrayal and abandonment dragged up again and again, without the old woman even realizing what pain she caused her with that simple question.<br/>„Where is your brother, Naema?“<br/>Belavahni almost felt like she must have angered some higher power.</p><p>First, she’d lost Elion, because even after trying to explain, it had not changed that his touch sent her right back to the Fade and the demon donning his face. She’d thought she simply needed time to get over that. But she could not bear the hurt in his eyes, and he could not help but ache at her distancing herself, so they had slowly drifted apart.</p><p>Second, she’d tried to follow Ivun when he left the clan and been rejected in the worst way possible. His words had caused her more agony than him simply leaving could ever have, and she wished she had not run after him, so she could at least have kept her memory, untainted.</p><p>Third, Keeper Amelan had died. He’d been struggling with a worsening cough for years, and despite all their efforts and herbal remedies his lungs had finally given out. It had been Amelan’s strict rules against spirits, that had driven Ivun away, so to lose the Keeper only a few months after her twin had left felt even worse. </p><p>Thinking that Ivun would still be here, if only he’d waited a little longer was one thing. Thinking that he’d still be here, if only the old Keeper had died sooner, left her deeply ashamed.<br/>Deshanna had taken over as Keeper, promoting her from Second to First. <br/>Now this?</p><p>It felt like time was dismantling the foundation of her life bit by bit, and she could not keep up. She wanted to get away from it all, away from the hurt.<br/>So, it seemed only natural to volunteer, when Deshanna said she wanted to send a spy to the Conclave.<br/>Some distance would do her good, and once she’d been away from the Clan for a while, she would miss them so much, that it would be easier to bear all the hurt when she returned. </p><p>Maybe she’d even manage to make up with Elion.<br/>For now, she needed space.<br/>She needed to take some time for herself, instead of letting time take from her.<br/>Time for her wounds to heal, so she could work through all those emotions without the wounds being torn open over and over, bleeding anew.<br/>And, since the Conclave would decide the future of the Chantry, the future of the Circles, it seemed only natural to send a mage, right?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Dementia<br/>Distance</p><p>I figure Belavahni saw the journey to Haven as a possible escape from a situation that became harder to bear each day.<br/>She did consider the possibility that she might not return (dead or captured), but trusted in her own abilities to handle most situations fate might throw at her. She did not reckon with the Breach or the Anchor.</p><p>Deshanna knew that Belavahni was more level-headed than most other clan members, and probably more knowledgeable about the chantry, too. Keeper Amelan taught his clan to recognize chantry heraldry and some basic rules on how to act closer to human settlings to avoid the notice of the chantry.<br/>Belavahni, always searching for answers, got her hands on as much of the chant of light as she could, trading with merchants for  books containing verses from it.<br/>Amelan highly disapproved her habit of studying Andrastian faith, but Belavahni did it not because she believed in the Maker, but so she might learn and understand how the chantry portrayed mages and why Andrastians feared magic so much.<br/>Her knowledge is still a fractured, incomplete thing, but it is more than most others in the clan had.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. D 4/4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Seeing with her own eyes what she is accused of is devastating for Belavahni. She does not know what happened, but she cannot believe she cause this.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She'd never known destruction and death on such a scale. It was one thing to hear that everyone had been killed or experience the fade echo of something long past.<br/>It was entirely different to actually see the bodies, all broken bones and burnt flesh, preserved in postures speaking of despair and agony.<br/>Her mouth fell open in silent dismay, lips trembling and tears trickling down her face in a steady stream.</p><p>„You think I did this.“ Belavahni did not whisper, yet her voice was hollow and frail like a cocoon after the insect had emerged, all life fled from it.<br/>„How can you think I did this?“<br/>She recoiled from the hand grabbing her shoulder, wrenching free, stumbling sideways. She had to get away from this horror, this human and her accusations, this gods-forsaken place.</p><p>There was nothing sacred about these ashes. The mere thought of them covering the ground underneath her feet like a blanket made her want to retch, made the boots on her feet not only bearable but a blessing. The thought of it touching her bare skin...<br/>Yet her frantic movement had disturbed the ash, sent up little puffs of it, stirring in the air like dust motes in a ray of light, and the thought of it filling her lungs was even worse.<br/>She doubled over, dry heaving, desperate not to throw up again.<br/>Struggling to breathe, but not actually wanting to.</p><p>They kept touching her, talking to her, but it could have been ancient tevene instead of the common tongue, for all she heard was incoherent noise. Even when Solas switched to elvhen, it was more the cadence and rhythm and associations – clan, friends, family – that calmed her down, than the actual words. She could not have repeated them if her life depended on it.</p><p>„Ga son?“ He asked once she had steadied her breathing.<br/>„Din. Ga telom.“ She answered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. It came away wet from her tears and stained by the face paint she’d used to cover her vallaslin, and... something darker.<br/>She swallowed. Dragged her fingers over her cheek, through the tear tracks. Then stared down at them. The dark smears on her skin, grey verging on black.</p><p><em>You stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious</em>, Cassandra had said. She'd vaguely remembered that part, though she'd only just realized what it meant.<br/>Damn shem.<br/>Suddenly, the bitter cold was no longer just around her, it was inside. Revulsion and resentment welling up with such force that her body could not hold it in. It spilled over, turning the moisture coating her skin into a fine layer of frost for a few, uncontrolled moments.</p><p>Belavahni bared her teeth in a snarl, trying her best to reign in her emotions.<br/>She had fallen unconscious. Fallen. Face forward. She'd lain in the ashes, and they had left her like this – not lying there, of course. No.<br/>They'd brought her to Haven while unconscious. Accused and threatened her the moment she woke up. And dragged her back up here to close the Breach or die trying.</p><p>She understood the urgency of the matter, had done her best to ignore exhaustion, hunger, and thirst.<br/>Yet she could not ignore this, on top of it all: being covered in the remnants of the dead because they had left her like this.<br/>She'd thought she was no more than a tool to them, up until now. Yet even a tool had to be cared for, kept in good condition for further use. </p><p>All the things they'd taken time to do while she was unconscious – imprison her, shackle her, examine her – had been done to her. Had there been even a single thing they had done for her, aside from keeping her alive so they could throw her at the Breach?<br/>It finally drove home the absolute neglect those people had shown her so far. That to them, her survival was out of the question.</p><p>She had known that all along from a logical point of view. Reason based on experience and cautionary tales. It felt different, knowing not only with her mind but her gut. Possibility – no, probability – had turned into certainty.<br/>They expected this task to kill her. And if it didn't, if she failed, they would take that upon themselves. Perhaps in another attempt to close the Breach, by destroying the mark so obviously connected to it. More likely to get their revenge and call it justice.</p><p>She had no trust in their trial, or them.<br/>She righted herself, straightening her shoulders.<br/>As she switched to the common tongue again, like so many times before she felt the sting caused by having more words in the human language than that of her own people. Yet this hurt, old and familiar, paled in comparison to the here and now.<br/>„Let's get this over with.“</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the words inspiring this fic were:<br/>Destruction<br/>Devastation<br/>Determination</p><p>I used "Project Elvhen: Expanding the Elvhen Language", chapter 21, for the short exchange in elvhen between Solas and Lavellen.<br/>He basically asks her if she/everything is alright.<br/>And she retorts: No. Nothing (about this) is right.</p><p>Hope the ashes on her face part was not overdone. I figured, with demons falling from the sky, they had better things to do than clean her up once they found her.<br/>Check her for injuries, keep an eye on her vitals, sure, I think Aidan did that.<br/>And Solas would have been focused on the mark.</p><p>My Lavellan does not like violence, so being accused of the death/suffering of all the people at the conclave hurts her deeply.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. E</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>loved the idea of the envy demon. Always figured that the demon concentrated on the Inquisition, because that was the things it needed to learn about, if it wanted to imitate the Inquisitor; and probably the memories that were freshest and easiest to access.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>„Is this shape useful? Will it let me know you? Everything tells me about you. So will this: Watch.“<br/>She stares at Leliana's face, so close to Cullen's. Her body presses against his, a gesture that would be intimate but for the blade against his throat.</p>
<p>Traitor, the whole situation screams, this picture the demon is painting, trying to gauge her reaction. But is it Leliana, turning on Cullen? Or the former templar, being executed for turning on the Inquisition? Is that what the demon tries to suggest? That she can't trust this man, for what he has been, for what she still is? No matter how much she wants to?</p>
<p>How else can Josephine stand by, doing nothing? She’s always the voice of reason, arguing against violence. Condoning it…<br/><em>That’s not like her.</em> So simple. She should have seen it right away.<br/><em>That’s not her.</em><br/>The demon has admitted as much itself: Leliana is a shape, nothing more.</p>
<p>The others as well, then. It explains why they are so vacant, puppets of a master who already has his hands full animating one imposter. The real Cullen would fight back.<br/><em>Unless... No.</em><br/>She doesn’t want to go there, doesn’t want to consider it. Yet she has to. Shutting her eyes to the possibility, however gruesome, means leaving herself blind. Vulnerable.</p>
<p>He’s the only one of them not safe back at Haven. It makes sense to threaten him, for he is the one… <br/><em>He’s not, though, he can’t be!</em><br/>Is the demon grasping at straws? Or does it know? Something she doesn't. Doesn't acknowledge.<br/><em>Know yourself, she thinks.</em></p>
<p>She forces herself to face that fear, to consider every angle. He might be here, might be real. Enthralled, no longer in control of his own mind and body.<br/><em>NO!</em><br/>Her reaction is visceral, every fibre of her being screaming defiance. <br/>She can't let the demon see, can't let it know.</p>
<p><em>Keep your face in check, your voice in check, your heart in check.</em><br/>„You're not Leliana.“ She states matter-of-factly.<br/><em>That's not Cullen</em>, her mind chants fervently.<br/>She’s scared not only by that possibility, but by how much it unsettles her. How it keeps her from concentrating on the demon.</p>
<p><em>Know your enemy.</em><br/>Templar, a voice in her mind hisses, and she can’t tell if it is her own or an outer influence. But she clings to that, scrapes together enough sense to reason that yes, templars are a threat to mages. That the demon has to know that, and would use it against her, would use him against her. So, it can’t be Cullen.</p>
<p>The blade slits his throat, spraying blood.<br/><em>Not Cullen! Not real! Not my fault!</em><br/>The demon slips into Josephine’s form, circling her, taunting, boasting. It seems to realize then, that the diplomat has less of an effect on her than desired.<br/>That's when it chooses Cullen.<br/> <br/>„I am not your toy!“ He all but spits at her.<br/>The words hurt, and she almost misses what comes after.<br/>She had only meant to tease, asking him about vows of celibacy. Not toy with him.<br/>Only a fool of a mage angers a Templar.<br/>To her, it hadn't been about the sex. She'd wondered how anyone could give up the chance of having a family.</p>
<p><em>Know your enemy</em>, she tells herself again.<br/>Demon, not man.<br/>Envy.</p>
<p>It's a feeling she knows well, and she wonders if that is why the demon affects her so much.<br/>The fake Cullen – she had envied all not gifted with magic, for being safe from demons, safe from templars – stabs a fake her in the back.<br/>„Tell me what you think!“ He demands, twisting the knife.<br/><em>You – he – wouldn't do that.</em> She thinks but doesn't say a word. <em>He left the templars after Kirkwall because he doesn't want to be like that.</em></p>
<p>„Tell me what you feel!“<br/>The demon towers over the war table, where they use to gather.<br/>Her advisors. Her inner circle. The Inquisition depends on them as much as it does on her. She needs them, and aches at these visions. Not just because they twist and taint something she holds dear by now, but for the sheer need to have them truly beside her now.</p>
<p>She feels everything at once, it seems.<br/>Recalling all the different emotions she ever felt standing next to that table. Discussing problems and possible solutions, rejoicing or brooding over the outcome. While the choice is still hers, always hers, they provide her with different perspectives, sometimes clashing with her opinion, but mostly balancing out her own feelings on each matter, making her look beyond impulse.</p>
<p>She can't act on impulse here. Here least of all. So, she's silent. But it's getting harder.<br/>„Tell me what you see.“<br/>Envy sets the pieces on the table ablaze. It would rather turn the world to ashes than leave it to someone else. She can see it now.<br/>The demon tries to take her, take them from her, so it can have it all. She won't let it.</p>
<p>Moving forward, she sees herself, cornered by soldiers, questioned by Cassandra.<br/>The eyes of her fake self are green.<br/>Well, her eyes are always green, glowing in the dark the way elven eyes do, but not like this. Not this eerie glow, emanating like mist.</p>
<p>Green like the Mark.<br/>Green like envy. <br/>Like it has filled her up to the brim, starting to spill.</p>
<p><em>You won't get to me so easily</em>, she tells herself.<br/>She'd like to say it out loud, but she doesn't. As good as it would be to hear her own voice, Envy would listen too.<br/>She won't give it anything. <br/>No answers. No clues. No weakness to exploit.<br/>She has to be silent, and strong.</p>
<p>She slips, though, when it speaks of ambition.<br/>She's holding back her hurt and anger at least, if not her words.<br/>The demon mocks her for trying to find its weakness.<br/>Then another voice, soothing, encouraging. </p>
<p>„All of this is Envy. People, Places, Power. If you keep going, Envy stretches. It takes strength to make more. Being one person is hard. Being many, too many, more and more, and Envy breaks down. You break out.“</p>
<p>She does not know why she trusts that other voice.<br/>It might be part of herself. It might as well be a part of Envy, though.<br/>It just… feels unlike Envy. Well-meaning.<br/>She silently prays that this is not Envy's masterpiece.</p>
<p>A morsel left out for her to gorge herself on.<br/>A part of Envy, that somehow managed to hide its hideous nature.<br/>She just feels that this voice, this… entity… encompasses something good, some path she can follow to safety.</p>
<p>She wonders, whether this might be her own conscience, trying to keep her on the true and righteous path, and learns only later that this is Compassion – not her own, but with a capital C, in both its current and original form.</p>
<p>„Keep going up. You're more you there than you are Envy, and that tires it out.“<br/>She wonders, though, how much of Envy already is her. How else could it have taken root in her head so easily, if not by using all the feelings she had buried deep inside herself as its breeding ground?</p>
<p>This voice, whatever its origin, tells her that Envy is trying to take her faith.<br/>There is little enough left of it as is.<br/>The thought scares her because she feels envy again. For the strength of faith Cassandra, Leliana and Cullen have shown.</p>
<p>She can't let Envy in.<br/>Not any more than she already has.<br/>She has to drive It out. Let her own faith carry her – if it can.<br/>Passing through her own mind is like running the gauntlet.</p>
<p>Envy shows her a bleak future. Leadership turned to tyranny.<br/><em>That's not me.</em><br/>She feels defiant, more so with every step.<br/><em>Not me. Not now. Not ever.</em><br/>She will defy Envy, will not become like that. And she will not let Envy become her.</p>
<p>Even outside of her own head, Envy still screamed at her. Screamed that she had been promised  to it.<br/>The anger was searing hot.</p>
<p>Withstanding demons was hard enough simply being a mage. Harder still with the Breach splitting the sky, spewing demons everywhere. But to have one sent specifically after her like an assassin, aiming to kill all that she stood for and leave behind only a monstrosity wearing her skin – that was discomforting beyond words.</p>
<p>She poured her anger into the fire blazing from her staff, made it burn even brighter. Hitting the grotesque body, long and spindly as if Envy really had spread itself thin, stretched its limbs trying to expand its reach. It seemed fitting, somehow, that is had four hands; six if you counted the ones that should have been feet.</p>
<p><em>Craving, grasping, grudging.</em><br/>„What could you gain from being me?“ It screeched her own words back at her and added: „Everything.“<br/>It had called her Lavellan .<br/>As if she, by herself, was her whole clan.<br/>Clearly, Envy couldn't fathom what she had lost to get here.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the word inspiring this fic was:<br/>Envy</p>
<p>I always figured that Lavellan recruited the templars so they would not turn against her; not the better ally, but the worse enemy in her mind.<br/>Also, Cole has been at Haven since the Breach opened in my worldstate, mostly hiding from view by making people forget. But after blundering through severl tries of trying to help Lavellan, I figured he might have left a sort of imprint nonetheless, kind of a déjà vu situation where she feels he means well.<br/>She has such a hard time trusting Cole because her old Keeper drilled into her that all spirits are dangerous, even those that are not evil.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. F</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>they had to use some form for the fearlings. Belavahni has two different fears appear to her when she is in the raw Fade, one for each time she visits.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spiders.<br/>That sounded like a reasonable fear. <br/>So, she echoed it.</p>
<p>She saw no spiders however. It was walls. All around her, in every variation imaginable.<br/>Packed earth and wooden planks, solid stone, brick and mortar.</p>
<p>They came bare, plastered and whitewashed, blackened with soot, spattered with blood.<br/>They came covered in cobwebs and lichen and ivy.</p>
<p>Decorated by carvings, murals and mosaics.<br/>Hung with picture-frames, and tapestries, and mirrors reflecting her panicked eyes.</p>
<p>No matter how simple or elaborate, a wall was a wall, an inanimate thing.<br/>Only this time she wasn't imagining the walls closing in on her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the word inspiring this fic was:<br/>Fear</p>
<p>The first time around, it is her fear of heights that manifests, with the floor crumbling away underneath her feet instead of being chased by spiders.<br/>The second time it is walls, closing in on her, symbolizing her slight claustrophobia. I feel, after being stuck in a dungeon, even if she does not remember most of that, this fear would be aggravated.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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